An  Eagle  Flight 

A  Filipino  Nof^el 

By 

Dr,JoseRiz3bl 


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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

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http://www.archive.org/details/eagleflightfilipOOrizaiala 


AN    EAGLE    FLIGHT 


/  have  in  this  rough  work  shaped  out  a  man 
IVhotn  this  beneatb-world  doth  embrace  and 

bug 
IVith  amplest  entertainment  :  my  free  drift 
Halts  not  particularly,  but  moves  itself 
In  a  wide  sea  of  wax  ;  no  levell'd  malice 
Infects  one  comma  in  the  course  I  hold  ; 
But  flies  an  eagle  flight ,  hold  and  forth  on, 
Leaving  no  track  behind. 

TIMON  OF  ATHENS— ^(r//.5'r«.^/. 


An  Eagle  Flight 

j4  dapted  from 

"NOLI   ME  TANGERE" 
By 

DR.    JOSE     RIZAL 


NEW   YORK 
McCLURE,    PHILLIPS    iff   CO. 

M  C  M 


COPTRIOHT,  ISOO, 

By  MOCLURE,  PHILUPS  &  00. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGH 

I. — The  House  on  the  Pasig i 

II. — Cris6stomo  Ibarra 7 

III. — The  Dinner 9 

IV. — Heretic  and  Filibuster 12 

V. — A  Star  in  the  Dark  Night 15 

VI. — Captain  Tiago  and  Maria 17 

VII. — Idylle 20 

VIII. — Reminiscences 23 

IX.  —Affairs  of  the  Country 25 

X. — The  Pueblo 30 

XI. — The  Sovereigns 32 

XII. — All  Saints'  Day 35 

XIII. — The  Little  Sacristans 40 

XIV.— SiSA 44 

XV.— Basilio 47 

XVI. — At  the  Manse 50 

XVII. — Story  of  a  Schoolmaster 53 

XVIII. — The  Story  of  a  Mother 57 

XIX. — The  Fishing  Party 63 

XX. — In  the  Woods 71 

XXI. — With  the  Philosopher 79 

XXII. — The  Meeting  at  the  Town  Hall 87 

XXIII. — The  Eve  of  the  FfiTE 94 

XXIV. — In  the  Church 102 

XXV. — The  Sermon 105 

XXVI.— The  Crane 109 

XXVII.— Free  Thought 116 

XXVIII.— The  Banquet 119 

XXIX.— Opinions 126 

XXX.— The  First  Cloud 130 

XXXI. — His  Excellency 134 

XXXII. — The  Procession 142 

XXXIII. — DoNa  Consolacion 145 


iv  Contents 

CHAPTKK  PAOB 

XXXIV. — Right  and  Might 150 

XXXV. — Husband  and  Wifb 156 

XXXVI.— Projects 163 

XXXVII. — Scrutiny  of  Conscience 165 

XXXVIII.— The  Two  Women 170 

XXXIX.— The  Outlawed 176 

XL.— The  Enigma 181 

XLI. — The  Voice  of  the  Persecuted 183 

XLII.— The  Family  of  Elias 187 

XLIII. — II  Buon  di  si  Conosce  da  Mattina 193 

XLIV. — La  Gallera 196 

XLV.— A  Call 201 

XL VI. — A  Conspiracy 204 

XLVII.  —The  Catastrophe 208 

XLVIII.— Gossip 212 

XLIX.— V«  ViCTis 217 

L. — Accurst 221 

LI. — Patriotism  and  Interest 224 

LII. — Maria  Clara  Marries 232 

LIII. — The  Chase  on  the  Lake 242 

LIV. — Father  DAmaso  Explains  Himself 247 

LV. — The  Nochebuena 251 


INTRODUCTION 


JOSE  RIZAL 


In  that  horrible  drama,  the  Philippine  revolution,  one 
man  of  the  purest  and  noblest  character  stands  out  pre-emi- 
nently— Josd  Rizal — poet,  artist,  philologue,  novelist,  above 
all,  patriot;  his  influence  might  have  changed  the  whole 
course  of  events  in  the  islands,  had  not  a  blind  and  stupid 
policy  brought  about  the  crime  of  his  death. 

This  man,  of  almost  pure  Tagalo  race,  was  born  in  1861, 
at  Calamba,  in  the  island  of  Luzon,  on  the  southern  shore  of 
the  Laguna  de  Bay,  where  he  grew  up  in  his  father's  home, 
under  the  tutorage  of  a  wise  and  learned  native  priest, 
Leontio. 

The  child's  fine  nature,  expanding  in  the  troublous  latter 
days  of  a  long  race  bondage,  was  touched  early  with  the  fire 
of  genuine  patriotism.  He  was  eleven  when  the  tragic  con- 
sequences of  the  Cavitd  insurrection  destroyed  any  linger- 
ing illusions  of  his  people,  and  stirred  in  them  a  spirit  that 
has  not  yet  been  allayed. 

The  rising  at  Cavit^,  like  many  others  in  the  islands,  was 
a  protest  against  the  holding  of  benefices  by  friars — a  thing 
forbidden  by  a  decree  of  the  Council  of  Trent,  but  author- 
ized in  the  Philippines,  by  papal  bulls,  until  such  time  as 
there  should  be  a  sufficiency  of  native  priests.  This  time 
never  came.  As  the  friars  held  the  best  agricultural  lands, 
and  had  a  voice — and  that  the  most  authoritative — in  civil 
affairs,  there  developed  in  the  rural  districts  a  veritable 
feudal   system,  bringing   in    its  train   the   arrogance   and 


vi  Introduction 

tyranny  that  like  conditions  develop.  It  became  impossible 
for  the  civil  authorities  to  carry  out  measures  in  opposition 
to  the  friars.  "  The  Government  is  an  arm,  the  head  is  the 
convent,"  says  the  old  philosopher  of  Rizal's  story. 

The  rising  at  Cavite  miscarried,  and  vengeance  fell.  Dr. 
Joseph  Burgos,  a  saintly  old  priest,  was  put  to  death,  and 
three  other  native  priests  with  him,  while  many  prominent 
native  families  were  banished.  Never  had  the  better  class 
of  Filipinos  been  so  outraged  and  araused,  and  from  this 
time  on  their  purpose  was  fixed,  not  to  free  themselves  from 
Spain,  not  to  secede  from  the  church  they  loved,  but  to 
agitate  ceaselessly  for  reforms  which  none  of  them  longer 
believed  could  be  realized  without  the  expulsion  of  the 
friars.  In  the  school  of  this  purpose,  and  with  the  belief 
on  the  part  of  his  father  and  Leontio  that  he  was  destined 
to  use  his  life  and  talents  in  its  behalf,  Jose  was  trained, 
until  he  left  his  home  to  study  in  Manila.  At  the  College 
of  the  Jesuits  he  carried  off  all  the  honors,  with  special 
distinction  in  literary  work.  He  wrote  a  number  of  odes; 
and  a  melodrama  in  verse,  the  work  of  his  thirteenth  year, 
was  successfully  played  at  Manila.  But  he  had  to  wear 
his  honors  as  an  Indian  among  white  men,  and  they  made 
life  hard  for  him.  He  specially  aroused  the  dislike  of  his 
Spanish  college  mates  by  an  ode  in  which  he  spoke  of  his 
patria.  A  Tagalo  had  no  native  land,  they  contended — only 
a  country. 

At  twenty  Rizal  finished  his  course  at  Manila,  and  a  few 
months  later  went  to  Madrid,  where  he  speedily  won  the 
degrees  of  Ph.D.  and  M.D. ;  then  to  Germany — taking  here 
another  degree,  doing  his  work  in  the  new  language,  which 
he  mastered  as  he  went  along ;  to  Austria,  where  he  gained 
great  skill  as  an  oculist;  to  France,  Italy,  England — ab- 
sorbing the  languages  and  literature  of  these  countries,  do- 
ing some  fine  sculpture  by  way  of  diversion.  But  in  all 
this  he  was  single-minded ;  he  never  lost  the  voice  of  his 
call ;  he  felt  more  and  more  keenly  the  contrast  between  the 
hard  lot  of  his  country  and  the  freedom  of  these  lands,  and 


Introduction  vii 

he  bore  it  ill  that  no  one  of  them  even  knew  about  her,  and 
the  cancer  eating  away  her  beauty  and  strength.  At  the 
end  of  this  period  of  study  he  settled  in  Berlin,  and  began 
his  active  work  for  his  country. 

Four  years  of  the  socialism  and  license  of  the  universities 
had  not  distorted  Rizal's  political  vision;  he  remained,  as 
he  had  grown  up,  an  opportunist.  Not  then,  nor  at  any 
time,  did  he  think  his  country  ready  for  self-government. 
He  saw  as  her  best  present  good  her  continued  union  to 
Spain,  "through  a  stable  policy  based  upon  justice  and 
community  of  interests."  He  asked  only  for  the  reforms 
promised  again  and  again  by  the  ministry,  and  as  often 
frustrated.  To  plead  for  the  lifting  of  the  hand  of  oppres- 
sion from  the  necks  of  his  people,  he  now  wrote  his  first 
novel,  "  Noli  Me  Tangere." 

The  next  year  he  returned  to  the  Philippines  to  find  him- 
self the  idol  of  the  natives  and  a  thorn  in  the  flesh  of  friars 
and  greedy  officials.  The  reading  of  his  book  was  pro- 
scribed. He  stayed  long  enough  to  concern  himself  in  a 
dispute  of  his  townspeople  with  the  Dominicans  over  titles 
to  lands;  then  finding  his  efforts  vain  and  his  safety  doubt- 
ful, he  left  for  Japan.  Here  he  pursued  for  some  time  his 
usual  studies;  came  thence  to  America,  and  then  crossed 
to  England,  where  he  made  researches  in  the  British  Museum, 
and  edited  in  Spanish,  "  Sucesos  de  las  Islas  Filipinas,"  by 
Dr.  Antonio  de  Morga,  an  important  work,  neglected  by 
the  Spaniards,  but  already  edited  in  English  by  Dean 
Stanley. 

After  publishing  this  work,  in  Paris,  Rizal  returned  to 
Spain,  where,  in  1890,  he  began  a  series  of  brilliant  pleas 
for  the  Philippines,  in  the  Solidaridad,  a  liberal  journal 
published  at  Barcelona  and  afterward  at  Madrid.  But  he 
roused  little  sympathy  or  interest  in  Spain,  and  his  articles, 
repeated  in  pamphlets  in  the  Philippines,  served  to  make 
his  position  more  dangerous  at  home. 

Disheartened  but  steadfast,  he  retired  to  Belgium,  to 
write  his  second  novel,  "El  Filibusterismo."     "Noli  Me 


viii  Introduction 

Tangere  "  is  a  poet's  story  of  his  people's  loves,  faults,  aspi- 
rations, and  wrongs;  "El  Filibusterismo "  is  the  work  of  a 
student  of  statecraft,  pointing  out  the  way  to  political  justice 
and  the  development  of  national  life.  Inspired,  it  would 
seem,  by  his  own  creation  of  a  future  for  his  country,  he 
returned  to  the  Solidaridad^  where,  in  a  series  of  remarkable 
articles,  he  forecast  the  ultimate  downfall  of  Spain  in  the 
Philippines  and  the  rise  of  his  people.  This  was  his  crime 
against  the  Government:  for  the  spirit  which  in  a  Spanish 
boy  would  not  permit  a  Tagalo  to  have  a  patria,  in  a  Span- 
iard grown  could  not  brook  the  suggestion  of  colonial  in- 
dependence, even  in  the  far  future. 

And  now  having  poured  out  these  passionate  pleas  and 
splendid  forecasts,  Rizal  was  homesick  for  this  land  of  his. 
He  went  to  Hong-Kong.  Calamba  was  in  revolt.  His 
many  friends  at  the  English  port  did  everything  to  keep 
him;  but  the  call  was  too  persistent.  December  23d,  1891, 
he  wrote  to  Despujols,  then  governor-general  of  the  Philip- 
pines :  "  If  Your  Excellency  thinks  my  slight  services  could 
be  of  use  in  pointing  out  the  evils  of  my  country  and  help- 
ing heal  the  wounds  reopened  by  the  recent  injustices, 
you  need  but  to  say  so,  and  trusting  in  your  honor  as  a 
gentleman,  I  will  immediately  put  myself  at  your  dispos- 
al. If  you  decline  my  offer,  ...  I  shall  at  least  be  con- 
scious of  having  done  all  in  my  power,  while  seeking  the 
good  of  my  country,  to  preserve  her  union  to  Spain 
through  a  stable  policy  based  upon  justice  and  community 
of  interests." 

The  governor  expressed  his  gratitude,  promised  protection, 
and  Rizal  sailed  for  Manila.  But  immediately  after  his 
landing  he  was  arrested  on  a  charge  of  sedition,  whose 
source  made  the  governor's  promise  impotent.  Nothing 
could  be  proved  against  Rizal ;  but  it  was  not  the  purpose  of 
his  enemies  to  have  him  acquitted.  A  half-way  sentence 
was  imposed,  and  he  was  banished  to  Dapidan,  on  the  island 
of  Mindanao.     Despujols  was  recalled  to  Spain. 

In  this  exile  Rizal  spent  four  years,  beloved  by  the  na- 


Introduction  ix 

tives,  teaching  them  agriculture,  treating  their  sick  (the 
poor  without  charge),  improving  their  schools,  and  visited 
from  time  to  time  by  patients  from  abroad,  drawn  here  by 
his  fame  as  an  oculist.  Among  these  last  came  a  Mr.  Tau- 
fer,  a  resident  of  Hong-Kong,  and  with  him  his  foster-child, 
Josephine  Bracken,  the  daughter  of  an  Irish  sergeant.  The 
pretty  and  adventurous  girl  and  the  banished  patriot  fell  in 
love  with  each  other. 

These  may  well  have  been  among  the  happiest  years  of 
Rizal's  life.  He  had  always  been  an  exile  in  fact:  now  that 
he  was  one  in  name,  strangely  enough  he  was  able  for  the 
first  time  to  live  in  peace  among  his  brothers  under  the 
skies  he  loved.     He  sang,  in  his  pathetic  content: 

**  Thou  dear  illusion  with  thy  soothing  cup  ! 
I  taste,  and  think  I  am  a  child  again. 

Oh!  kindly  tempest,  favoring  winds  of  heaven. 
That  knew  the  hour  to  check  my  shifting  flight, 
And  beat  me  down  upon  my  native  soil,  ..." 

Always  about  his  philological  studies,  he  began  here  a 
work  that  should  be  of  peculiar  interest  to  us :  a  treatise  on 
Tagalog  verbs,  in  the  English  language.  Did  his  knowl- 
edge of  America's  growing  feeling  toward  Cuba  lead  him 
to  foresee — as  no  one  else  seems  to  have  done — her  ap- 
pearance in  the  Philippines,  or  was  he  thinking  of  Eng- 
land? 

At  Hong-Kong,  and  in  his  brief  stays  at  Manila,  Rizal 
had  established  the  Liga  Filipina,  a  society  of  educated  and 
progressive  islanders,  whose  ideas  of  needed  reforms  and 
methods  of  attaining  them  were  at  one  with  his  own.  His 
banishment  was  a  warning  of  danger  and  checked  the  so- 
ciety's activity. 

The  Liga  was  succeeded,  in  the  sense  only  of  followed, 
by  the  Katipunan, — a  native  word  also  meaning  league. 
The  makers  of  this  "league,"  though  avowing  the  same 


X  Introduction 

purpose  as  the  members  of  the  other,  were  men  of  very  dif- 
ferent stamp.  Their  initiation  was  a  blood-rite:  they 
sought  immediate  independence;  they  preached  a  campaign 
of  force,  if  not  of  violence.  That  a  recent  reviewer  should 
have  connected  Dr.  Rizal's  name  with  the  Katipunan  is 
difficult  to  understand.  Not  alone  are  his  writings,  acts, 
and  character  against  such  a  possibility,  but  so  also  is  the 
testimony  of  the  Spanish  archives :  for  not  only  was  it  ad- 
mitted at  his  final  trial  that  he  was  not  suspected  of  any 
connection  with  the  Katipunan,  but  his  well-known  disap- 
proval of  that  society's  premature  and  violent  action  was 
even  made  a  point  against  him.  He  was  so  much  the  more 
dangerous  to  the  state  because  he  had  the  sagacity  to  know 
that  the  times  were  not  yet  ripe  for  independence,  and  the 
honesty  and  purity  of  purpose  to  make  only  demands  which 
the  state  herself  well  knew  to  be  just. 

When  the  rebellion  of  1896  broke  out,  Rizal,  still  at 
Dapidan,  knew  that  his  life  would  not  long  be  worth  a 
breath  of  his  beloved  Philippine  air.  He  asked,  therefore, 
of  the  Government  permission  to  go  to  Cuba  as  an  army  sur- 
geon. It  was  granted,  and  he  was  taken  to  Manila — ova- 
tions all  along  his  route — and  embarked  on  the  Isla  de 
Panay  for  Barcelona.  He  carried  with  him  the  following 
letter  from  General  Blanco,  then  governor-general  of  the 
Philippines,  to  the  Minister  of  War  at  Madrid: 

Manila,  August  30th,  1896. 
Esteemed  General  and  Distinguished  Friend: 

I  recommend  to  you  with  genuine  interest,  Dr.  Josd  Rizal, 
who  is  leaving  for  the  Peninsula,  to  place  himself  at  the 
disposal  of  the  Government  as  volunteer  army  surgeon  to 
Cuba.  During  the  four  years  of  his  exile  at  Dapidan,  he 
has  conducted  himself  in  the  most  exemplary  manner,  and 
he  is  in  my  opinion  the  more  worthy  of  pardon  and  con- 
sideration, in  that  he  is  in  no  way  connected  with  the  ex- 
travagant attempts  we  are  now  deploring,  neither  those  of 
conspii:ators  nor  of  the  secret  societies  that  have  been 
formed. 


Introduction  xi 

I  have  the  pleasure  to  reassure  you  of  my  high  esteem, 
and  remain, 

Your  affectionate  friend  and  comrade, 

Ramon  Blanco. 

But  as  soon  as  the  Isla  was  on  the  seas,  despatches  be- 
gan to  pass  between  Manila  and  Madrid,  and  before  she 
reached  her  port  the  promises,  acceptances,  and  recommen- 
dations of  the  Government  officials  were  void.  Upon  land- 
ing, Rizal  was  immediately  arrested  and  confined  in  the 
infamous  Montjuich  prison.  Despujols  was  now  military 
governor  of  Barcelona.  The  interview  of  hours  which  he  is 
said  to  have  had  with  his  Filipino  prisoner  must  have  been 
dramatic.  Rizal  was  at  once  re-embarked,  on  the  Colon, 
and  returned  to  Manila,  a  state  prisoner.  Blanco  was  re- 
called, and  Poliavieja,  a  sworn  friend  of  the  clericals,  was 
sent  out. 

Rizal  was  tried  by  court-martial,  on  a  charge  of  sedition 
and  rebellion.  His  guilt  was  manifestly  impossible.  Ex- 
cept as  a  prisoner  of  the  state,  he  had  spent  only  a  few 
weeks  in  the  Philippines  since  his  boyhood.  His  life 
abroad  had  been  perfectly  open,  as  were  all  his  writings. 
The  facts  stated  in  General  Blanco's  letter  to  the  Minister 
of  War  were  well  known  to  all  Rizal's  accusers.  The  best 
they  could  do  was  to  aver  that  he  had  written  "  depreciative 
words"  against  the  Government  and  the  Church.  Some 
testimony  was  given  against  him  by  men  who,  since  the 
American  occupation,  have  made  affidavit  that  it  was  false 
and  forced  from  them  by  torture.  Rizal  made  a  splendid 
defence,  but  he  was  condemned,  and  sentenced  to  the  death 
of  a  traitor.  On  that  day  Josd  Rizal  y  Mercado  and  Jose- 
phine Bracken  were  married.  Then  the  sweetness  and 
strength  of  his  character  and  his  singleness  of  purpose  made 
a  beautiful  showing.  In  the  night,  which  his  bride  spent 
on  her  knees  outside  his  prison,  he  wrote  a  long  poem  of 
farewell  to  his  patria  adorado,  fine  in  its  abnegation  and 
exquisite  in  the  wanderings  of  its  fancy.     He  received  the 


xii  Introduction 

ministrations  of  a  Jesuit  priest.  He  was  perfectly  calm. 
"  What  is  death  to  me?  "  he  said;  "I  have  sown,  others  are 
left  to  reap."     At  dawn  he  was  shot. 

The  poem  in  which  he  left  a  record  of  his  last  thoughts 
was  the  following: 


MY  LAST  THOUGHT. 

Land  I  adore,  farewell !  thou  land  of  the  southern  sun's  choosing  ! 

Pearl  of  the  Orient  seas  !  our  forfeited  Garden  of  Eden  ! 

Joyous  I  yield  up  for  thee  my  sad  life,  and  were  it  far  brighter, 

Young,  rose-strewn,  for  thee  and  thy  happiness  still  would  I  give  it. 

Far  aBeld,  in  the  din  and  rush  of  maddening  battle. 

Others  have  laid  down  their  lives,  nor  wavered  nor  paused  in  the  giving. 

What  matters  way  or  place — the  Cyprus,  the  lily,  the  laurel, 

Gibbet  or  open  field,  the  sword  or  inglorious  torture. 

When  'tis  the  hearth  and  the  country  that  call  for  the  life's  immolation? 

Dawn's  faint  lights  bar  the  east,  she  smiles  through  the  cowl  of  the 

darkness, 
Just  as  I  die.     Hast  thou  need  of  purple  to  garnish  her  pathway  ? 
Here  is  my  blood,  on  the  hour  !  pour  it  out,  and  the  sun  in  his  rising 
Mayhap  will  touch  it  with  gold,  will  lend  it  the  sheen  of  his  glory. 

Dreams  of  my  childhood  -and  youth,  and  dreams  of  my  strong  young 

manhood. 
What  were  they  all  but  to  see,  thou  gem  of  the  Orient  ocean  ! 
Tearless  thine  eyes  so  deep,  unbent,  unmarred  thy  sweet  forehead. 

Vision  I  followed  from  far,  desire  that  spurred  on  and  consumed  me ! 
Greeting  !  my  parting  soul  cries,  and  greeting  again  !  .   .  .  O  my  coun- 
try ! 
Beautiful  is  it  to  fall,  that  the  vision  may  rise  to  fulfilment. 
Giving  my  life  for  thy  life,  and  breathing  thine  air  in  the  death-throe ; 
Sweet  to  eternally  sleep  in  thy  lap,  O  land  of  enchantment ! 

H  in  the  deep,  rich  grass  that  covers  my  rest  in  thy  bosom, 

Some  day  thou  seest  upspring  a  lowly,  tremulous  blossom, 

Lay  there  thy  lips,  'tis  my  soul ;  may  I  feel  on  my  forehead  descending, 

Deep  in  the  chilly  tomb,  the  soft,  warm  breath  of  thy  kisses. 


Introduction  xiii 

Let  the  calm  light  of  the  moon  fall  around  me,  and  dawn's  fleeting 

splendor  ; 
Let  the  winds  murmur  and  sigh,  on  my  cross  let  some  bird  tell  its 

message  ; 
Loosed  from  the  rain  by  the  brazen  sun.  let  clouds  of  soft  vapor 
Bear  to  the  skies,  as  they  mount  again,  the  chant  of  my  spirit. 
There  may  some  friendly  heart  lament  my  parting  untimely, 
And  if  at  eventide  a  soul  for  my  tranquil  sleep  prayeth, 
Pray  thou  too,  O  my  fatherland  !  for  my  peaceful  reposing. 
Pray  for  those  who  go  down  to  death  through  unspeakable  torments ; 
Pray  for  those  who  remain  to  suffer  such  torture  in  prisons  ; 
Pray  for  the  bitter  grief  of  our  mothers,  our  widows,  our  orphans  ; 
Oh,  pray  too  for  thyself,  on  the  way  to  thy  final  redemption. 

When  our  still  dwelling-place  wraps  night's  dusky  mantle  about  her. 
Leaving  the  dead  alone  with  the  dead,  to  watch  till  the  morning. 
Break  not  our  rest,  and  seek  not  to  lay  death's  mystery  open. 
If  now  and  then  thou  shouldst  hear  the  string  of  a  lute  or  a  zithem. 
Mine  is  the  hand,  dear  country,  and  mine  is  the  voice  that  is  singing. 

When  my  tomb,  that  all  have  forgot,  no  cross  nor  stone  marketh, 
There  let  the  laborer  guide  his  plough,  there  cleave  the  earth  open. 
So  shall  my  ashes  at  last  be  one  with  thy  hills  and  thy  valleys. 
Little  'twill  matter  then,  my  country,  that  thou  shouldst  forget  me  ! 
I  shall  be  air  in  thy  streets,  and  I  shall  be  space  in  thy  meadows. 
I  shall  be  vibrant  speech  in  thine  ears,  shall  be  fragrance  and  color. 
Light   and  shout,  and  loved  song  forever  repeating  my  message. 

Rizal's  own  explanation  of  the  lofty  purpose  of  his  search- 
ing story  of  his  Tagalog  fatherland  was  in  these  words  of 
his  dedicatory  preface : 

TO    MY   COUNTRY 

The  records  of  human  suffering  make  known  to  us  the  ex- 
istence of  ailments  of  such  nature  that  the  slightest  touch 
irritates  and  causes  tormenting  pains.  Whenever,  in  the 
midst  of  modern  civilizations,  I  have  tried  to  call  up  thy 
dear  image,  O  my  country!  either  for  the  comradeship  of 
remembrance  or  to  compare  thy  life  with  that  about  me,  I 
have  seen  thy  fair  face  disfigured  and  distorted  by  a  hideous 
social  cancer. 


xiv  Introduction 

Eager  for  thy  health,  which  is  our  happiness,  and  seek- 
ing the  best  remedy  for  thy  pain,  I  am  about  to  do  with  thee 
what  the  ancients  did  with  their  sick :  they  exposed  them 
on  the  steps  of  their  temples,  that  every  one  who  came  to 
adore  the  divinity  within  might  offer  a  remedy. 

So  I  shall  strive  to  describe  faithfully  thy  state  without 
extenuation ;  to  lift  a  corner  of  the  covering  that  hides  thy 
sore ;  sacrificing  everything  to  truth,  even  the  love  of  thy 
glory,  while  loying,  as  thy  son,  even  thy  frailties  and  sins. 

i,x.i'-        ....    ...  ...  ]0St  KlZAL. 


",oo  ■^i'.\> 


AN    EAGLE    FLIGHT 


•   3{..i:    .  J 
THE   HOUSE   ON   THE   PASIG. 

■It;  •  o 

It  was  toward  the  end  of  October.  Don 'Santiago  de  los 
Santos,  better  known  as  Captain  Tiago,  was  giving  a  dinner; 
and  though,  contrary  to  custom,  he  had  not  announced  it 
until  that  very  afternoon,  it  had  become  before  evening  the 
sole  topic  of  conversation,  not  only  at  Binondo,  but  in  the 
other  suburbs  of  Manila,  and  even  in  the  city  itself.  Cap- 
tain Tiago  passed  for  the  most  lavish  of  entertainers,  and 
it  was  well  known  that  the  doors  of  his  home,  like  those  of 
his  country,  were  closed  to  nobody  and  nothing  save  com- 
merce and  all  new  or  audacious  ideas.  The  news  spread, 
therefore,  with  lightning  rapidity  in  the  world  of  the  syce 
phants,  the  unemployed  and  idle,  whom  heaven  has  multi- 
plied so  generously  at  Manila. 

The  dinner  was  given  in  a  house  of  the  Calle  de  An- 
loague,  which  may  yet  be  recognized,  if  an  earthquake  has 
not  demolished  it.  This  house,  rather  large  and  of  a  style 
common  to  the  country,  stood  near  an  arm  of  the  Pasig, 
called  the  Boco  de  Binondo,  a  rio  which,  like  all  others  of 
Manila,  washing  along  the  multiple  output  of  baths,  sewers, 
and  fishing  grounds  serves  as  a  means  of  transport,  and 
even  furnishes  drinking-water,  if  such  be  the  humor  of  the 
Chinese  carrier.  Scarcely  at  intervals  of  a  half-mile  is 
I 


2  An  Eagle  Flight 

this  powerful  artery  of  the  quarter  where  the  traffic  is  most 
important,  the  movement  most  active,  dotted  with  bridges; 
and  these,  in  ruins  at  one  end  six  months  of  the  year  and 
inapproachable  the  remaining  six  at  the  other,  give  horses 
a  pretext  for  plunging  into  the  water,  to  the  great  surprise 
of  preoccupied  mortals  in  carriages  dozing  tranquilly  or 
philosophizing  on  the  progress  of  the  century. 

The  house  of  Captain  Tiago  was  rather  low  and  on  lines 
sufficiently  incorrect.  A  grand  staircase  with  green  balus- 
trades, carpeted  at  intervals,  led  from  the  vestibule,  with 
its  squares  of  colored  faience,  to  the  main  floor,  between 
Chinese  pedestals  ornamented  with  fantastic  designs,  sup> 
porting  vases  and  jardinibres  of  flowers. 

At  the  top  of  the  staircase  was  a  large  apartment,  called 
here  caida,  which  for  this  night  served  at  once  as  dining- 
and  music-room.  In  the  centre,  a  long  table,  luxuriously 
set,  seemed  to  promise  to  diners-out  the  most  soothing  sat- 
isfaction, at  the  same  time  threatening  the  timid  girl — the 
dalaga — who  for  six  mortal  hours  must  submit  to  the  com- 
panionship of  strange  and  diverse  people. 

In  contrast  to  these  mundane  preparations,  richly  colored 
pictures  of  religious  subjects  hung  about  the  walls,  and  at 
the  end  of  the  apartment,  imprisoned  in  ornate  and  splendid 
Renaissance  carving,  was  a  curious  canvas  of  vast  dimen- 
sions, bearing  the  inscription,  "  Our  Lady  of  Peace  and  of 
Safe  Journeys,  Venerated  at  Antipolo."  The  ceiling  was 
prettily  decorated  with  jewelled  Chinese  lamps,  cages  with- 
out birds,  spheres  of  crystal  faced  with  colored  foil,  faded 
air  plants,  botetes,  etc.  On  the  river  side,  through  fantastic 
arches,  half  Chinese,  half  European,  were  glimpses  of  a 
terrace,  with  trellises  and  arbors,  illuminated  by  little  colored 
lanterns.  Brilliant  chandeliers,  reflected  in  great  mirrors, 
lighted  the  apartment.  On  a  platform  of  pine  was  a  superb 
grand  piano.     In  a  panel  of  the  wall,  a  large  portrait  in  oil 


The  House  on  the  Pasig  3 

represented  a  man  of  agreeable  face,  in  frock  coat,  robust, 
straight,  symmetrical  as  the  gavel  between  his  jewelled 
fingers. 

The  crowd  of  guests  almost  filled  the  room;  the  men 
separated  from  the  women,  as  in  Catholic  churches  and 
synagogues.  An  old  cousin  of  Captain  Tiago's  was  receiv- 
ing alone.  Her  appearance  was  kindly,  but  her  tongue  not 
very  flexible  to  the  Castilian.  She  filled  her  role  by  offer- 
ing to  the  Spaniards  trays  of  cigarettes  and  buyos^  and  giv- 
ing the  Filipinos  her  hand  to  kiss.  The  poor  old  lady, 
wearied  at  last,  profited  by  the  sound  of  breaking  china  to 
go  out  hurriedly,  grumbling  at  maladroits.  She  did  not 
reappear. 

Whether  the  pictures  roused  a  spirit  of  devotion,  whether 
the  women  of  the  Philippines  are  exceptional,  the  feminine 
part  of  the  assembly  remained  silent.  Scarcely  was  heard 
even  a  yawn,  stifled  behind  a  fan.  The  men  made  more 
stir.  The  most  interesting  and  animated  group  was  formed 
by  two  monks,  two  Spanish  provincials,  and  an  officer, 
seated  round  a  little  table,  on  which  were  wine  and  English 
biscuits. 

The  officer,  an  old  lieutenant,  tall  and  morose,  looked  a 
Duke  of  Alba,  retired  into  the  Municipal  Guard.  He  spoke 
little  and  dryly.  One  of  the  monks  was  a  young  Dominican, 
handsome,  brilliant,  precociously  grave;  it  was  the  curate 
of  Binondo.  Consummate  dialectician,  he  could  escape 
from  a  distinguo  like  an  eel  from  a  fisherman's  nets.  He 
spoke  seldom,  and  seemed  to  weigh  his  words. 

The  other  monk  talked  much  and  gestured  more.  Though 
his  hair  was  turning  gray,  he  seemed  to  have  preserved  all 
his  vigor.  His  carriage,  his  glance,  his  large  jaws,  his 
herculean  frame,  gave  him  the  air  of  a  Roman  patrician  in 
disguise.  Yet  he  seemed  genial,  and  if  the  timbre  of  his 
voice  was  autocratic,  his  frank  and  merry  laugh  removed 


4  An  Eagle  Flight 

any  disagreeable  impression,  so  far  even  that  one  pardoned 
his  appearing  in  the  salon  with  unshod  feet. 

One  of  the  provincials,  a  little  man  with  a  black  beard, 
had  nothing  remarkable  about  him  but  his  nose,  which,  to 
judge  from  its  size,  ought  not  to  have  belonged  to  him  en- 
tire. The  other,  young  and  blond,  seemed  newly  arrived 
in  the  country.  The  Franciscan  was  conversing  with  him 
somewhat  warmly. 

"  You  will  see,"  said  he,  "  when  you  have  been  here  sev- 
eral months;  you  will  be  convinced  that  to  legislate  at 
Madrid  and  to  execute  in  the  Philippines  is  not  one  and  the 
same  thing." 

"  But " 

"  I;  for  example,"  continued  Brother  Damaso,  raising  his 
voice  to  cut  off  the  words  of  his  objector,  "  I,  who  count 
twenty-three  years  of  plane  and  palm,  can  speak  with  au- 
thority. I  spent  twenty  years  in  one  pueblo.  In  twenty 
years  one  gets  acquainted  with  a  town.  San  Diego  had  six 
thousand  souls.  I  knew  each  inhabitant  as  if  I'd  borne  and 
reared  him — with  which  foot  this  one  limped,  how  that  one's 
pot  boiled — and  I  tell  you  the  reforms  proposed  by  the  Min- 
isters are  absurd.     The  Indian  is  too  indolent!  " 

"Ah,  pardon  me,"  said  the  young  man,  speaking  low  and 
drawing  nearer;  "that  word  rouses  all  my  interest.  Does 
it  really  exist  from  birth,  this  indolence  of  the  native,  or  is 
it,  as  some  travellers  say,  only  an  excuse  of  our  own  for  the 
lack  of  advancement  in  our  colonial  policy?  " 

"  Bah !  ask  Senor  Laruja,  who  also  knows  the  country 
well ;  ask  him  if  the  ignorance  and  idleness  of  the  Indians 
are  not  unparalleled? " 

"In  truth!"  the  little  dark  man  made  haste  to  affirm; 
"nowhere  will  you  find  men  more  careless." 

"  Nor  more  corrupt,  nor  more  ungrateful." 

"Nor  more  ill-bred."  , 


The  House  on  the  Pasig  5 

The  young  man  looked  about  uneasily.  "Gentlemen," 
said  he,  still  speaking  low,  "  it  seems  to  me  we  are  the 
guests  of  Indians,  and  that  these  young  ladies " 

"Bah,  you  are  too  timid:  Santiago  does  not  consider 
himself  an  Indian,  besides,  he  isn't  here.  These  are  the 
scruples  of  a  newcomer.  Wait  a  little.  When  you  have 
slept  in  our  strapped  beds,  eaten  the  tinola,  and  seen  our 
balls  and  fetes,  you'll  change  your  tone.  And  more,  you 
will  find  that  the  country  is  going  to  ruin;  she  is  ruined 
already !  " 

"What  does  your  reverence  mean?"  cried  the  lieuten- 
ant and  Dominican  together. 

"  The  evil  all  comes  from  the  fact  that  the  Government 
sustains  wrong-doers  in  the  face  of  the  ministers  of  God," 
continued  the  Franciscan,  raising  his  voice  and  facing 
about.  "  When  a  curate  rids  his  cemetery  of  a  malefactor, 
no  one,  not  even  the  king,  has  the  right  to  interfere ;  and 
a  wretched  general,  a  petty  general  from  nowhere " 

"Father,  His  Excellency  is  viceroy,"  said  the  officer, 
rising.     "  His  Excellency  represents  His  Majesty  the  king." 

"What  Excellency?"  retorted  the  Franciscan,  rising  in 
turn.  "Who  is  this  king?  For  us  there  is  but  one  King, 
the  legitimate " 

"  If  you  do  not  retract  that,  Father,  I  shall  make  it  known 
to  the  governor-general,"  cried  the  lieutenant. 

"Go  to  him  now,  go!"  retorted  Father  Damaso;  "I'll 
loan  you  my  carriage." 

The  Dominican  interposed. 

"  Senores,"  said  he  in  a  tone  of  authority,  "  you  should 
not  confuse  things,  nor  seek  offence  where  there  is  none 
intended.  We  must  distinguish  in  the  words  of  Father 
Damaso  those  of  the  man  from  those  of  the  priest.  The 
latter  per  se  can  never  offend,  because  they  are  infallible. 
In  the  words  of  the  man,  a  sub-distinction  must  be  made, 


6  An  Eagle  Flight 

into  those  said  ab  irato,  those  said  ex  ore,  but  not  in  corde, 
and  those  said  in  corde.  It  is  these  last  only  that  can 
offend,  and  even  then  everything  depends.  If  they  were 
not  premeditated  in  mente,  but  simply  arose  per  accidens 
in  the  heat  of  the  conversation " 

At  this  interesting  point  there  joined  the  group  an  old 
Spaniard,  gentle  and  inoffensive  of  aspect.  He  was  lame, 
and  leaned  on  the  arm  of  an  old  native  woman,  smothered 
in  curls  and  frizzes,  preposterously  powdered,  and  in  Euro- 
pean dress.  With  relief  every  one  turned  to  salute  them. 
It  was  Doctor  de  Espadana  and  his  wife,  the  Doctora  Dona 
Victorina.     The  atmosphere  cleared. 

"Which,  Senor  Laruja,  is  the  master  of  the  house?" 
asked  the  young  provincial.     "  I  haven't  been  presented." 

"  They  say  he  has  gone  out." 

"No  presentations  are  necessary  here,"  said  Brother 
Damaso;  "Santiago  is  a  good  fellow." 

Er  hat  das  PuIJernicht  erjutiden.  "  He  didn't  invent  gun- 
powder," added  Laruja. 

"What,  you  too,  Senor  de  Laruja?  "  said  Dona  Victorina 
over  her  fan.  "How  could  the  poor  man  have  invented 
gunpowder  when,  if  what  they  say  is  true,  the  Chinese 
made  it  centuries  ago  ?  " 

"The  Chinese?  'Twas  a  Franciscan  who  invented  it," 
said  Brother  Damaso. 

"A  Franciscan,  no  doubt;  he  must  have  been  a  mission- 
ary to  China,"  said  the  Senora,  not  disposed  to  abandon 
her  idea. 

"Who  is  this  with  Santiago?"  asked  the  lieutenant. 
Every  one  looked  toward  the  door,  where  two  men  had  just 
entered.     They  came  up  to  the  group  around  the  table. 


II. 

CRISOSTOMO   IBARRA. 

One  was  the  original  of  the  portrait  in  oil,  and  he  led  by 
the  hand  a  young  man  in  deep  black.  "Good  evening, 
senores;  good  evening,  fathers,"  said  Captain  Tiago,  kissing 
the  hands  of  the  priests,  "  I  have  the  honor  of  presenting 
to  you  Don  Crisostomo  Ibarra." 

At  the  name  of  Ibarra  there  were  smothered  exclamations. 
The  lieutenant,  forgetting  to  salute  the  master  of  the  house, 
surveyed  the  young  man  from  head  to  foot.  Brother  Damaso 
seemed  petrified.  The  arrival  was  evidently  unexpected. 
Senor  Ibarra  exchanged  the  usual  phrases  with  members  of 
the  group.  Nothing  marked  him  from  other  guests  save 
his  black  attire.  His  fine  height,  his  manner,  his  move- 
ments, denoted  sane  and  vigorous  youth.  His  face,  frank 
and  engaging,  of  a  rich  brown,  and  lightly  furrowed — trace 
of  Spanish  blood — was  rosy  from  a  sojourn  in  the  north. 

"Ah!"  he  cried,  surprised  and  delighted,  "my  father's 
old  friend,  Brother  Damaso!  " 

All  eyes  turned  toward  the  Franciscan,  who  did  not  stir. 

"  Pardon,"  said  Ibarra,  puzzled.     "  I  am  mistaken." 

"  You  are  not  mistaken,"  said  the  priest  at  last,  in  an 
odd  voice ;  "  but  your  father  was  not  my  friend." 

Ibarra,  astonished,  drew  slowly  back  the  hand  he  had 
offered,  and  turned  to  find  himself  facing  the  lieutenant, 
whose  eyes  had  never  left  him. 

"  Young  man,  are  you  the  son  of  Don  Rafael  Ibarra  ?  " 

Crisostomo  bowed. 


8  An  Eagle  Flight 

"Then  welcome  to  your  country!  I  knew  your  father 
well,  one  of  the  most  honorable  men  of  the  Philippines." 

"  Senor,"  replied  Ibarra,  "  what  you  say  dispels  my  doubts 
as  to  his  fate,  of  which  as  yet  I  know  nothing." 

The  old  man's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  He  turned  away  to 
hide  them,  and  moved  off  into  the  crowd. 

The  master  of  the  house  had  disappeared.  Ibarra  was 
left  alone  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  No  one  presented 
him  to  the  ladies.  He  hesitated  a  moment,  then  went  up 
to  them  and  said : 

"  Permit  me  to  forget  formalities,  and  salute  the  first  of 
my  countrywomen  I  have  seen  for  years." 

No  one  spoke,  though  many  eyes  regarded  him  with  in- 
terest. Ibarra  turned  away,  and  a  jovial  man,  in  native 
dress,  with  studs  of  brilliants  down  his  shirt-front,  almost 
ran  up  to  say: 

"Senor  Ibarra,  I  wish  to  know  you.  I  am  Captain 
Tinong,  and  live  near  you  at  Tondo.  Will  you  honor  us 
at  dinner  to-morrow  ?  " 

"Thank  you,"  said  Ibarra,  pleased  with  the  kindness, 
"  but  to-morrow  I  must  leave  for  San  Diego." 

"  What  a  pity !     Well  then,  on  your  return " 

"  Dinner  is  served,"  announced  a  waiter  of  the  Cafd  La 
Campana. 

The  guests  began  to  move  toward  the  table,  not  without 
much  ceremony  on  the  part  of  the  ladies,  especially  the 
natives,  who  required  a  great  deal  of  polite  urging. 


in. 

THE   DINNER. 

The  two  monks  finding  themselves  near  the  head  of  the 
table,  like  two  candidates  for  a  vacant  office,  began  politely 
resigning  in  each  other's  favor. 

"  This  is  your  place,  Brother  Ddmaso." 

"  No,  yours.  Brother  Sibyla." 

*•  You  are  so  much  the  older  friend  of  the  family." 

"  But  you  are  the  curate  of  the  quarter." 

This  polite  contention  settled,  the  guests  sat  down,  no 
one  but  Ibarra  seeming  to  think  of  the  master  of  the  house. 

"  What,"  said  he,  "  you're  not  to  be  with  us,  Don  San- 
tiago?" 

But  there  was  no  place :  Lucullus  was  not  dining  with 
Lucullus. 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself,"  said  Captain  Tiago,  laying  his 
hand  on  the  young  man's  shoulder.  "  This  feast  is  a  thank- 
offering  for  your  safe  return.  Ho,  there!  bring  the  tinola! 
I've  ordered  the  tinola  expressly  for  you,  Crisostomo." 

*'  When  did  you  leave  the  country?  "  Laruja  asked  Ibarra. 

"  Seven  years  ago." 

"  Then  you  must  have  almost  forgotten  it." 

"  On  the  contrary,  it  has  been  always  in  my  thoughts ;  but 
my  country  seems  to  have  forgotten  me." 

"Why  do  you  say  that? "  asked  the  old  lieutenant. 

"  Because  for  several  months  I  have  had  no  news,  so  that 
I  do  not  even  know  how  and  when  my  father  died." 

The  lieutenant  could  not  repress  a  groan. 


10  An  Eagle  Flight 

"  And  where  were  you  that  they  couldn't  telegraph  you  ?  " 
asked  Dona  Victorina.  *'  When  we  were  married,  we  sent 
despatches  to  the  peninsula." 

"  Senora,  I  was  in  the  far  north,"  said  Ibarra. 

"You  have  travelled  much,"  said  the  blond  provincial; 
"which  of  the  European  countries  pleased  you  most?  " 

"After  Spain,  my  second  country,  the  nations  that  are 
free." 

"  And  what  struck  you  as  most  interesting,  most  surpris- 
ing, in  the  general  life  of  nations — the  genius  of  each,  so  to 
put  it?  "  asked  Laruja. 

Ibarra  reflected. 

"  Before  visiting  a  country  I  carefully  studied  its  history, 
and,  except  the  different  motives  for  national  pride,  there 
seems  to  me  nothing  surprisingly  characteristic  in  any  na- 
tion. Given  its  history,  everything  appears  natural ;  each 
people's  wealth  and  misery  seem  in  direct  proportion  to 
its  freedom  and  its  prejudices,  and  in  consequence,  in  pro- 
portion to  the  self-sacrifice  or  selfishness  of  its  progenitors." 

"Did  you  discover  nothing  more  startling  than  that?" 
demanded  the  Franciscan,  with  a  mocking  laugh.  "  It  was 
hardly  worth  while  squandering  money  for  so  slight  returns. 
Not  a  schoolboy  but  knows  as  much." 

The  guests  eyed  one  another,  fearful  of  what  might  fol- 
low. Ibarra,  astonished,  remained  silent  a  moment,  then 
said  quietly : 

"Senores,  do  not  wonder  at  these  words  of  Brother 
Ddmaso.  He  was  my  curate  when  I  was  a  little  boy,  and 
with  his  reverence  the  years  don't  count.  I  thank  him  for 
thus  recalling  the  time  when  he  was  often  an  honored  guest 
at  my  father's  table." 

Brother  Sibyla  furtively  observed  the  Franciscan,  who 
was  trembling  slightly.  At  the  first  possible  opportunity 
Ibarra  rose. 


The  Dinner  1 1 

"  You  will  pardon  me  if  I  excuse  myself,"  he  said.  "  I 
arrived  only  a  few  hours  ago,  and  have  matters  of  impor- 
tance to  attend  to.  The  dinner  is  over.  I  drink  little  wine, 
and  scarcely  taste  liquors."  And  raising  a  glass  as  yet 
untouched,  "Senores,"  he  said,  "Spain  and  the  Philippines 
forever ! " 

"  You're  not  going ! "  said  Santiago  in  amazement. 
"  Maria  Clara  and  her  friends  will  be  with  us  in  a  moment. 
What  shall  I  say  to  her?  " 

"That  I  was  obliged  to  go,"  said  Ibarra,  "and  that  I'm 
coming  early  in  the  morning."     And  he  went  out. 

The  Franciscan  unburdened  himself. 

"  You  saw  his  arrogance,"  he  said  to  the  blond  provincial. 
"These  young  fellows  won't  take  reproof  from  a  priest. 
That  comes  of  sending  them  to  Europe.  The  Government 
ought  to  prohibit  it." 

That  night  the  young  provincial  added  to  his  "Colonial 
Studies,"  this  paragraph:  "In  the  Philippines,  the  least 
important  person  at  a  feast  is  he  who  gives  it.  You  begin 
by  showing  your  host  to  the  door,  and  all  goes  merrily.  .  .  . 
In  the  present  state  of  affairs,  it  would  be  almost  a  kindness 
to  prohibit  young  Filipinos  from  leaving  their  country,  if 
not  even  from  learning  to  read." 


IV. 

HERETIC   AND    FILIBUSTER. 

Ibarra  stood  outside  the  house  of  Captain  Tiago.  The 
night  wind,  which  at  this  season  brings  a  bit  of  freshness 
to  Manila,  seemed  to  blow  away  the  cloud  that  had  darkened 
his  face.  Carriages  passed  him  like  streaks  of  light,  hired 
calashes  rolled  slowly  by,  and  foot-passengers  of  all  nation- 
alities jostled  one  another.  With  the  rambling  gait  of  the 
preoccupied  or  the  idle,  he  took  his  way  toward  the  Plaza 
de  Binondo.  Nothing  was  changed.  It  was  the  same 
street,  with  the  same  blue  and  white  houses,  the  same  white 
walls  with  their  slate-colored  fresco,  poor  imitations  of 
granite.  The  church  tower  showed  the  same  clock  with 
transparent  face.  The  Chinese  shop  had  the  same  soiled 
curtains,  the  same  iron  triangles.  One  day,  long  ago,  imi- 
tating the  street  urchins  of  Manila,  he  had  twisted  one  of 
these  triangles:  nobody  had  ever  straightened  it.  "How 
little  progress! "  he  murmured;  and  he  followed  the  Calle 
de  la  Sacristia,  pursued  by  the  cry  of  sherbet  venders. 

"Marvellous!"  he  thought;  "one  would  say  my  voyage 
was  a  dream.  Santo  Dios !  the  street  is  as  bad  as  when  I 
went  away." 

While  he  contemplated  this  marvel  of  urban  stability  in 
an  unstable  country,  a  hand  fell  lightly  on  his  shoulder. 
He  looked  up  and  recognized  the  old  lieutenant.  His 
face  had  put  off  its  expression  of  sternness,  and  he  smiled 
kindly  at  Crisostomo. 


Heretic  and  Filibuster  13 

"Young  man,"  he  said,  "I  was  your  father's  friend:  I 
wish  you  to  consider  me  yours." 

"  You  seem  to  have  known  my  father  well,"  said  Crisos- 
tomo ;  "  perhaps  you  can  tell  me  something  of  his  death." 

"  You  do  not  know  about  it  ?  " 

"  Nothing  at  all,  and  Don  Santiago  would  not  talk  with 
me  till  to-morrow." 

"  You  know,  of  course,  where  he  died." 

"  Not  even  that." 

Lieutenant  Guevara  hesitated. 

"  I  am  an  old  soldier,"  he  said  at  last,  in  a  voice  full  of 
compassion,  "  and  only  know  how  to  say  bluntly  what  I  have 
to  tell.     Your  father  died  in  prison." 

Ibarra  sprang  back,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  lieutenant's. 

"Died  in  prison?     Who  died  in  prison?  " 

"  Your  father,"  said  the  lieutenant,  his  voice  still  gentler. 

"My  father — in  prison?  What  are  you  saying?  Do  you 
know  who  my  father  was  ? "  and  he  seized  the  old  man's 
arm. 

"  I  think  I'm  not  mistaken :  Don  Rafael  Ibarra." 

"  Yes,  Don  Rafael  Ibarra,"  Crisostomo  repeated  mechan- 
ically. 

"  You  will  soon  learn  that  for  an  honest  man  to  keep  out 
of  prison  is  a  difficult  matter  in  the  Philippines." 

"You  mock  me!     Why  did  he  die  in  prison? " 

"Come  with  me;  we  will  talk  on  the  way." 

They  walked  along  in  silence,  the  officer  stroking  his 
beard  in  search  of  inspiration. 

"As  you  know,"  he  began,  "your  father  was  the  richest 
man  of  the  province,  and  if  he  had  many  friends  he  had 
also  enemies.  We  Spaniards  who  come  to  the  Philippines 
are  seldom  what  we  should  be.  I  say  this  as  truthfully  of 
some  of  your  ancestors  as  of  others.  Most  of  us  come  to 
make  a  fortune  without  regard  to  the  means.     Well,  your 


14  An  Eagle  Flight 

father  was  a  man  to  make  enemies  among  these  adventurers, 
and  he  made  enemies  among  the  monks.  I  never  knew  ex- 
actly the  ground  of  the  trouble  with  Brother  Damaso,  but 
it  came  to  a  point  where  the  priest  almost  denounced  him 
from  the  pulpit. 

"You  remember  the  old  ex-artilleryman  who  collected 
taxes?  He  became  the  laughing-stock  of  the  pueblo,  and 
grew  brutal  and  churlish  accordingly.  One  day  he  chased 
some  boys  who  were  annoying  him,  and  struck  one  down. 
Unfortunately  your  father  interfered.  There  was  a  struggle 
and  the  man  fell.     He  died  within  a  few  hours. 

"  Naturally  your  father  was  arrested,  and  then  his  enemies 
unmasked.  He  was  called  heretic,  filibustero,  his  papers 
were  seized,  everything  was  made  to  accuse  him.  Any  one 
else  in  his  place  would  have  been  set  at  liberty,  the  physi- 
cians finding  that  the  man  died  of  apoplexy;  but  your 
father's  fortune,  his  honesty,  and  his  scorn  of  everything 
illegal  undid  him.  When  his  advocate,  by  the  most  brilliant 
pleading,  had  exposed  these  calumnies,  new  accusations 
arose.  He  had  taken  lands  unjustly,  owed  men  for  imagi- 
nary wrongs,  had  relations  with  the  tulisanes,  by  which  his 
plantations  and  herds  were  unmolested.  The  affair  became 
so  complicated  that  no  one  could  unravel  it.  Your  father 
gave  way  under  the  strain,  and  died  suddenly — alone — in 
prison." 

They  had  reached  the  quarters. 

The  lieutenant  hesitated.  Ibarra  said  nothing,  but 
grasped  the  old  man's  long,  thin  hand;  then  turned  away, 
caught  sight  of  a  coach,  and  signalled  the  driver. 

"  Fonda  de  Lala,"  he  said,  and  his  words  were  scarcely 
audible. 


V. 

A   STAR    IN   THE   DARK   NIGHT. 

Ibarra  went  up  to  his  chamber,  which  faced  the  river, 
threw  himself  down,  and  looked  out  through  the  open 
window.  Across  the  river  a  brilliantly  lighted  house  was 
ringing  with  joyous  music.  Had  the  young  man  been  so 
minded,  with  the  aid  of  a  glass  he  might  have  seen,  in  that 
radiant  atmosphere,  a  vision.  It  was  a  young  girl,  of  ex- 
ceeding beauty,  wearing  the  picturesque  costume  of  the 
Philippines.  A  semicircle  of  courtiers  was  round  her. 
Spaniards,  Chinese,  natives,  soldiers,  curates,  old  and  young, 
intoxicated  with  the  light  and  music,  were  talking,  gestur- 
ing, disputing  with  animation.  Even  Brother  Sibyla 
deigned  to  address  this  queen,  in  whose  splendid  hair  Dona 
Victorina  was  wreathing  a  diadem  of  pearls  and  brilliants. 
She  was  white,  too  white  perhaps,  and  her  deep  eyes,  often 
lowered,  when  she  raised  them  showed  the  purity  of  her 
soul.  About  her  fair  and  rounded  neck,  through  the  trans- 
parent tissue  of  the  pina,  winked,  as  say  the  Tagals,  the  joy- 
ous eyes  of  a  necklace  of  brilliants.  One  man  alone  seemed 
unreached  by  all  this  light  and  loveliness;  it  was  a  young 
Franciscan,  slim,  gaunt,  pale,  who  watched  all  from  a  dis- 
tance, still  as  a  statue. 

But  Ibarra  sees  none  of  this.  Another  spectacle  appears 
to  his  fancy,  commands  his  eyes.  Four  walls,  bare  and 
dank,  enclose  a  narrow  cell,  lighted  by  a  single  streak  of 
day.  On  the  moist  and  noisome  floor  is  a  mat;  on  the  mat 
an  old  man  dying.     Beaten  down  by  fever,  he  lies  and  looks 


1 6  An  Eagle  Flight 

about  him,  calling  a  name,  in  strangling  voice,  with  tears. 
No  one — a  clanking  chain,  an  echoed  groan  somewhere; 
that  was  all.  And  away  off  in  the  bright  world,  laughing, 
singing,  drenching  flowers  with  wine,  a  young  man.  .  .  . 
One  by  one  the  lights  go  out  in  the  festal  house :  no  more 
of  noise,  or  song,  or  harp ;  but  in  Ibarra's  ears  always  the 
agonizing  cry. 

Silence  has  drawn  her  deep  breath  over  Manila;  all  its 
life  seems  gone  out,  save  that  a  cock's  crow  alternates  with 
the  bells  of  clock  towers  and  the  melancholy  watch-cry  of 
the  guard.  A  quarter  moon  comes  up,  flooding  with  its  pale 
light  the  universal  sleep.  Even  Ibarra,  wearied  more  per- 
haps with  his  sad  thoughts  than  his  long  voyage,  sleeps  too. 
Only  the  young  Franciscan,  silent  and  motionless  just  now 
at  the  feast,  awake  still.  His  elbow  on  the  window-place 
of  his  little  cell,  his  chin  sunk  in  his  palm,  he  watches  a 
glittering  star.  The  star  pales,  goes  out,  the  slender  moon 
loses  her  gentle  light,  but  the  monk  stays  on;  motionless, 
he  looks  toward  the  horizon,  lost  now  behind  the  morning 
mists,  over  the  field  of  Bagumbayan,  over  the  sleeping  sea. 


•       VI. 

CAPTAIN    TIAGO   AND   MARIA. 

While  our  friends  are  still  asleep  or  breakfasting,  we 
will  sketch  the  portrait  of  Captain  Tiago.  We  have  no 
reason  to  ignore  him,  never  having  been  among  his  guests. 
Short,  less  dark  than  most  of  his  compatriots,  of  full  face 
and  slightly  corpulent,  Captain  Tiago  seemed  younger  than 
his  age.  His  rounded  cranium,  very  small  and  elongated 
behind,  was  covered  with  hair  black  as  ebony.  His  eyes, 
small  and  straight  set,  kept  always  the  same  expression. 
His  nose  was  straight  and  finely  cut,  and  if  his  mouth  had 
not  been  deformed  by  the  use  of  tobacco  and  buyo,  he  had 
not  been  wrong  in  thinking  himself  a  handsome  man. 

He  was  reputed  the  richest  resident  of  Binondo,  and  had 
large  estates  in  La  Pampanga,  on  the  Laguna  de  Bay,  and 
at  San  Diego.  From  its  baths,  its  famous  gallera,  and  his 
recollections  of  the  place,  San  Diego  was  his  favorite  pueblo, 
and  here  he  passed  two  months  every  year.  He  had  also 
properties  at  Santo  Cristo,  in  the  Calle  de  Anloague,  and 
in  the  Calle  Rosario ;  the  exploitation  of  the  opium  traffic 
was  shared  between  him  and  a  Chinese,  and,  needless  to 
say,  brought  him  great  gains.  He  was  purveyor  to  the 
prisoners  at  Bilibid,  and  furnished  zacate  to  many  Manila 
houses.  On  good  terms  with  all  authority,  shrewd,  pliant, 
daring  in  speculation,  he  was  the  sole  rival  of  a  certain 
Perez  in  the  awards  of  divers  contracts  which  the  Philip- 
pine Government  always  places  in  privileged  hands.  From 
all  of  which  it  resulted  that  Captain  Tiago  was  as  happy 

2 


i8  An  Eagle  Flight 

as  can  be  a  man  whose  small  head  announces  his  native 
origin.  He  was  rich,  and  at  peace  with  God,  with  the  Gov- 
ernment, and  with  men. 

That  he  was  at  peace  with  God  could  not  be  doubted. 
One  has  no  motive  for  being  at  enmity  with  Him  when  one 
is  well  in  the  land,  and  has  never  had  to  ask  Him  for  any- 
thing. From  the  grand  salon  of  the  Manila  home,  a  little 
door,  hid  behind  a  silken  curtain,  led  to  a  chapel — some- 
thing obligatory  in  a  Filipino  house.  There  were  San- 
tiago's Lares,  and  if  we  use  this  word,  it  is  because  the 
master  of  the  house  was  rather  a  poly-  than  a  monotheist. 
Here,  in  sculpture  and  oils,  were  saints,  martyrdoms,  and 
miracles;  a  chapter  could  scarcely  enumerate  them  all.  Be- 
fore these  images  Santiago  burned  his  candles  and  made 
his  requests  known. 

That  he  was  at  peace  with  the  Government,  however  dif- 
ficult the  problem,  could  not  be  doubted  either.  Incapable 
of  a  new  idea,  and  contented  with  his  lot,  he  was  disposed 
to  obey  even  to  the  lowest  functionary,  and  to  offer  him 
capons,  hams,  and  Chinese  fruits  at  all  seasons.  If  he 
heard  the  natives  maligned,  not  considering  himself  one,  he 
chimed  in  and  said  worse :  one  criticised  the  Chinese  mer- 
chants or  the  Spaniards,  he,  who  thought  himself  pure 
Iberian,  did  it  too.  He  was  for  two  years  gobema-dorcillo 
of  the  rich  association  of  half-breeds,  in  the  face  of  pro- 
testations from  many  who  considered  him  a  native.  The 
impious  called  him  fool ;  the  poor,  pitiless  and  cruel ;  his 
inferiors,  a  tyrant. 

As  to  his  past,  he  was  the  only  son  of  a  rich  sugar  mer- 
chant, who  died  when  Santiago  was  still  at  school.  He 
had  then  to  quit  his  studies  and  give  himself  to  business. 
He  married  a  young  girl  of  Santa  Cruz,  who  brought  him 
social  rank  and  helped  his  fortunes. 

The  absence  of  an  heir  in  the  first  six  years  of  marriage 


Captain  Tiago  and  Maria  19 

made  Captain  Tiago's  thirst  for  riches  almost  blameworthy. 
In  vain  all  this  time  did  Dona  Pia  make  novenas  and  pil- 
grimages and  scatter  alms.  But  at  length  she  was  to  be- 
come a  mother.  Alas!  like  Shakespeare's  fisherman  who 
lost  his  songs  when  he  found  a  treasure,  she  never  smiled 
again,  and  died,  leaving  a  beautiful  baby  girl,  whom  Brother 
Damaso  presented  at  the  font.  The  child  was  called  Maria 
Clara. 

Maria  Clara  grew,  thanks  to  the  care  of  good  Aunt  Isabel. 
Her  eyes,  like  her  mother's,  were  large,  black,  and  shaded 
by  long  lashes;  sparkling  and  mirthful  when  she  laughed; 
when  she  did  not,  thoughtful  and  profound,  even  sad.  Her 
curly  hair  was  almost  blond,  her  nose  perfect;  and  her 
mouth,  small  and  sweet  like  her  mother's,  was  flanked  by 
charming  dimples.  The  little  thing,  idol  of  every  one,  lived 
amid  smiles  and  love.  The  monks  feted  her.  They  dressed 
her  in  white  for  their  processions,  mingled  jasmine  and  lilies 
in  her  hair,  gave  her  little  silver  wings,  and  in  her  hands 
blue  ribbons,  the  reins  of  fluttering  white  doves.  She  was 
so  joyous,  had  such  a  candid  baby  speech,  that  Captain 
Tiago,  enraptured  with  her,  passed  his  time  in  blessing  the 
saints. 

In  the  lands  of  the  sun,  at  thirteen  or  fourteen,  the  child 
becomes  a  woman.  At  this  age  full  of  mysteries,  Maria 
Clara  entered  the  convent  of  Santa  Catalina,  to  remain 
several  years.  With  tears  she  parted  from  the  sole  com- 
panion of  her  childish  games,  Crisostomo  Ibarra,  who  in 
turn  was  soon  to  leave  his  home.  Some  years  after  his  de- 
parture, Don  Rafael  and  Captain  Tiago,  knowing  the  in- 
clinations of  their  children,  agreed  upon  their  marriage. 
This  arrangement  was  received  with  eager  joy  by  two  hearts 
beating  at  two  extremities  of  the  world. 


VII. 

IDYLLE. 

The  sky  was  blue.  A  fresh  breeze  stirred  the  leaves 
and  shook  the  nodding  "  angels'  heads,"  the  aerial  plants, 
and  the  many  other  adornments  of  the  terrace.  Maria  and 
Crisostomo  were  there,  alone  together  for  the  first  time  since 
his  return.  They  began  with  charming  futilities,  so  sweet 
to  those  who  understand,  so  meaningless  to  others.  She  is 
sister  to  Cain,  a  little  jealous;  she  says  to  her  lover:  "  Did 
you  never  forget  me  among  the  many  beautiful  women  you 
have  seen  ? " 

He  too,  he  is  brother  to  Cain,  a  bit  subtle. 

"  Could  I  ever  forget  youl "  he  answered,  gazing  into  the 
dark  eyes.  "  Your  remembrance  made  powerless  that  lotus 
flower,  Europe,  which  steeps  out  of  the  memory  of  many  of 
my  countrymen  the  hopes  and  wrongs  of  our  land.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  spirit,  the  poetic  incarnation  of  my  coun- 
try was  you,  frank  and  lovely  daughter  of  the  Philippines! 
My  love  for  you  and  that  for  her  fused  in  one." 

"  I  know  only  your  pueblo,  Manila  and  Antipolo,"  replied 
the  young  girl,  radiant;  "but  I  have  always  thought  of  you, 
and  though  my  confessor  commanded  it,  I  was  never  able 
to  forget  you.  I  used  to  think  over  all  our  childish  plays 
and  quarrels.  Do  you  remember  the  day  you  were  really 
angry?  Your  mother  had  taken  us  to  wade  in  the  brook, 
behind  the  reeds.  You  put  a  crown  of  orange  flowers  on 
my  head  and  called  me  Chloe.  But  your  mother  took  the 
flowers  and  ground  them  with  a  stone,  to  mix  with  gogo,  for 


Idylle  21 

washing  our  hair.  You  cried.  *  Stupid,'  said  she,  '  you 
shall  see  how  good  your  hair  smells! '  I  laughed;  at  that 
you  were  angry  and  wouldn't  speak  to  me,  while  I  wanted 
to  cry.  On  the  way  home,  when  the  sun  was  very  hot,  I 
picked  some  sage  leaves  for  your  head.  You  smiled  your 
thanks,  and  we  were  friends  again." 

Ibarra  opened  his  pocketbook  and  took  out  a  paper  in 
which  were  some  leaves,  blackened  and  dry,  but  fragrant 
still. 

"  Your  sage  leaves,"  he  replied  to  her  questioning  look. 

In  her  turn,  she  drew  out  a  little  white  satin  purse. 

"  Hands  off!  "  as  he  reached  out  for  it,  "  there's  a  letter 
in  it!" 

"  My  letter  of  good-by  ?  " 

"  Have  you  written  me  any  others,  senor  mio  ?  " 

"What  is  in  it?" 

"  Lots  of  fibs,  excuses  of  a  bad  debtor,"  she  laughed. 
"  If  you're  good  I  will  read  it  to  you,  suppressing  the  gal- 
lantries, though,  so  you  won't  suffer  too  much."  And  lift- 
ing the  paper  to  hide  her  face,  she  began : 

"*My '     I'll  not  read  what  follows,  because  it's  a 

fib";  and  she  ran  her  eyes  over  several  lines.  "In  spite 
of  my  prayers,  I  must  go.  *  You  are  no  longer  a  boy,'  my 
father  said,  *  you  must  think  of  the  future.  You  have  to 
learn  things  your  own  country  cannot  teach  you,  if  you 
would  be  useful  to  her  some  day.  What,  almost  a  man  and 
I  see  you  in  tears  ? '  Upon  that  I  confessed  my  love  for 
you.  He  was  silent,  then  placing  his  hand  on  my  shoulder 
he  said  in  a  voice  full  of  emotion :  '  Do  you  think  you  alone 
know  how  to  love;  that  it  costs  your  father  nothing  to  let 
you  go  away  from  him  ?  It  is  not  long  since  we  lost  your 
mother,  and  I  am  growing  old,  yet  I  accept  my  solitude  and 
run  the  risk  of  never  seeing  you  again.  For  you  the  future 
opens,  for  me  it  shuts ;  the  fire  of  youth  is  yours,  frost  touches 


22  An  Eagle  Flight 

me,  and  it  is  jou  who  weep,  you  who  do  not  know  how  to 
sacrifice  the  present  to  a  to-morrow  good  for  you  and  for 
your  country." 

Ibarra's  agitation  stopped  the  reading;  he  had  become 
very  pale  and  was  walking  back  and  forth. 

"What  is  it.'  You  are  ill!"  cried  Maria,  going  toward 
him. 

"  With  you  I  have  forgotten  my  duty ;  I  should  be  on  my 
way  to  the  pueblo.     To-morrow  is  the  Feast  of  the  Dead." 

Maria  was  silent.  She  fixed  on  him  her  great,  thoughtful 
eyes,  then  turned  to  pick  some  flowers. 

"Go,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  was  deep  and  sweet;  "I 
keep  you  no  longer.  In  a  few  days  we  shall  see  each  other 
again.     Put  these  flowers  on  your  father's  grave." 

A  little  later.  Captain  Tiago  found  Maria  in  the  chapel, 
at  the  foot  of  a  statue  of  the  Virgin,  weeping.  "  Come, 
come,"  said  he,  to  console  her;  "burn  some  candles  to 
St.  Roch  and  St.  Michael,  patrons  of  travellers,  for  the 
tulisanes  are  numerous:  better  spend  four  reales  for  wax 
than  pay  a  ransom." 


VIII. 

REMINISCENCES. 

Ibarra's  carriage  was  crossing  one  of  the  most  animated 
quarters  of  Manila.  The  street  life  that  had  saddened  him 
the  night  before,  now,  in  spite  of  his  sorrow,  made  him 
smile.  Everything  awakened  a  world  of  sleeping  recollec- 
tions. 

These  streets  were  not  yet  paved,  so  if  the  sun  shone  two 
days  continuously,  they  turned  to  powder  which  covered 
everything.  But  let  it  rain  a  day,  you  had  a  mire,  reflect- 
ing at  night  the  shifting  lamps  of  the  carriages  and  bespat- 
tering the  foot-passengers  on  the  narrow  walks.  How  many 
women  had  lost  their  embroidered  slippers  in  these  muddy 
waves ! 

The  good  and  honorable  pontoon  bridge,  so  characteris- 
tically Filipino,  doing  its  best  to  be  useful  in  spite  of 
natural  faults,  and  rising  or  falling  with  the  caprices  of  the 
Pasig, — that  brave  bridge  was  no  more.  The  new  Spanish 
bridge  drew  Ibarra's  attention.  Carriages  passed  continu- 
ously, drawn  by  groups  of  dwarf  horses,  in  splendid  har- 
ness. In  these  sat  at  ease  government  clerks  going  to  their 
bureaus,  officers,  Chinese,  self-satisfied  and  ridiculously 
grave  monks,  canons.  In  an  elegant  victoria,  Ibarra 
thought  he  recognized  Father  Damaso,  deep  in  thought. 
From  an  open  carriage,  where  his  wife  and  two  daughters 
accompanied  him.  Captain  Tinong  waved  a  friendly  greeting. 

Then  came  the  Botanical  Gardens,  then  old  Manila,  still 
enclosed  in  its  ditches  and  walls ;  beyond  that  the  sea ;  be- 


24  An  Eagle  Flight 

yond  that,  Europe,  thought  Ibarra.  But  the  little  hill  of 
Bagumbayan  drove  away  all  fancies.  He  remembered  the 
man  who  had  opened  the  eyes  of  his  intelligence,  taught 
him  to  find  out  the  true  and  the  just.  It  was  an  old  priest, 
and  the  holy  man  had  died  there,  on  that  field  of  execution ! 

To  these  thoughts  he  replied  by  murmuring:  "No,  after 
all,  first  the  country,  first  the  Philippines,  daughters  of 
Spain,  first  the  Spanish  home-land !  " 

His  carriage  rolled  on.  It  passed  a  cart  drawn  by  two 
horses  whose  hempen  harness  told  of  the  back  country. 
Sometimes  there  sounded  the  slow  and  heavy  tread  of  a 
pensive  carabao,  drawing  a  great  tumbrel;  its  conductor, 
on  his  buffalo  skin,  accompanying,  with  a  monotonous  and 
melancholy  chant,  the  strident  creaking  of  the  wheels. 
Sometimes  there  was  the  dull  sound  of  a  native  sledge's 
worn  runners.  In  the  fields  grazed  the  herds,  and  among 
them  white  herons  gravely  promenaded,  or  sat  tranquil  on 
the  backs  of  sleepy  oxen  beatifically  chewing  their  cuds  of 
prairie  grass.  Let  us  leave  the  young  man,  wholly  occupied 
now  with  his  thoughts.  The  sun  which  makes  the  tree-tops 
burn,  and  sends  the  peasants  running,  when  they  feel  the 
hot  ground  through  their  thick  shoes;  the  sun  which  halts 
the  countrywoman  under  a  clump  of  great  reeds,  and  makes 
her  think  of  things  vague  and  strange — that  sun  has  no  en- 
chantment for  him. 

While  the  carriage,  staggering  like  a  drunken  man  over 
the  uneven  ground,  passes  a  bamboo  bridge,  mounts  a  rough 
hillside  or  descends  its  steep  slope,  let  us  return  to  Manila. 


IX. 

AFFAIRS  OF   THE   COUNTRY. 

Ibarra  had  not  been  mistaken.  It  was  indeed  Father 
Ddmaso  he  had  seen,  on  his  way  to  the  house  which  he  him- 
self had  just  left. 

Maria  Clara  and  Aunt  Isabel  were  entering  their  carriage 
when  the  monk  arrived.  "  Where  are  you  going  ? "  he 
asked,  and  in  his  preoccupation  he  gently  tapped  the  young 
girl's  cheek. 

"  To  the  convent  to  get  my  things,"  said  she. 

"Ah!  ah!  well,  well!  we  shall  see  who  is  the  stronger, 
we  shall  see!"  he  murmured,  as  he  left  the  two  women 
somewhat  surprised  and  went  up  the  steps. 

"  He's  probably  committing  his  sermon,"  said  Aunt  Isa- 
bel.    "  Come,  we  are  late!  " 

We  cannot  say  whether  Father  Damaso  was  committing  a 
sermon,  but  he  must  have  been  absorbed  in  important 
things,  for  he  did  not  offer  his  hand  to  Captain  Tiago. 

"Santiago,"  he  said,  "we  must  have  a  serious  talk. 
Come  into  your  office." 

Captain  Tiago  felt  uneasy.  He  answered  nothing,  but 
followed  the  gigantic  priest,  who  closed  the  door  behind 
them. 

While  they  talk,  let  us  see  what  has  become  of  Father 
Sibyla. 

The  learned  Dominican,  his  mass  once  said,  had  set  out 
for  the  convent  of  his  order,  which  stands  at  the  entrance 


26  An  Eagle  Flight 

to  the  city,  near  the  gate  bearing  alternately,  according  to 
the  family  reigning  at  Madrid,  the  name  of  Magellan  or 
Isabella  II. 

Brother  Sibyla  entered,  crossed  several  halls,  and  knocked 
at  a  door. 

"  Come  in,"  said  a  faint  voice. 

"God  give  health  to  your  reverence,"  said  the  young 
Dominican,  entering.  Seated  in  a  great  armchair  was  an 
old  priest,  meagre,  jaundiced,  like  Rivera's  saints.  His 
eyes,  deep-sunken  in  their  orbits,  were  arched  with  heavy 
brows,  intensifying  the  flashes  of  their  dying  light. 

Brother  Sibyla  was  moved.  He  inclined  his  head,  and 
seemed  to  wait. 

"  Ah !  "  gasped  the  sick  man, "  they  recommend  an  opera- 
tion! An  operation  at  my  age!  Oh,  this  country,  this 
terrible  country !  You  see  what  it  does  for  all  of  us,  Her- 
nando ! " 

"  And  what  has  your  reverence  decided?  " 

"To  die!  Could  I  do  otherwise?  I  suffer  too  much, 
but — I've  made  others  suffer.  I'm  paying  my  debt.  And 
you  ?     How  are  you  ?     What  do  you  bring  me  ?  " 

"  I  came  to  talk  of  the  mission  you  gave  me." 

"  Ah!  and  what  is  there  to  say?  " 

"  They've  told  us  fairy  tales,"  answered  Brother  Sibyla 
wearily.  "  Young  Ibarra  seems  a  sensible  fellow.  He  is 
not  stupid  at  all,  and  thoroughly  manly." 

"Is  it  so!" 

"  Hostilities  began  yesterday." 

"Ah!  and  how?" 

Brother  Sibyla  briefly  recounted  what  had  passed  between 
Brother  Damaso  and  Crisostomo. 

"  Besides,"  he  said  in  conclusion,  "  the  young  man  is 
going  to  marry  the  daughter  of  Captain  Tiago,  who  was 
educated  at  the  convent  of  our  sisters.    He  is  rich;  he  would 


Affairs  of  the  Country  .  27 

not  go  about  making  himself  enemies  and  compromise  at 
once  his  happiness  and  his  fortune." 

The  sick  man  moved  his  hand  in  sign  of  assent. 

"  Yes,  you  are  right.  He  should  be  ours,  body  and  soul. 
But  if  he  declare  himself  our  enemy,  so  much  the  better!  " 

Brother  Sibyla  looked  at  the  old  man  in  surprise. 

"  For  the  good  of  our  sacred  order,  you  understand,"  he 
added,  breathing  with  difficulty ;  "  I  prefer  attack  to  the 
flatteries  and  adulations  of  friends;  besides,  those  are 
bought." 

**  Your  reverence  believes  that? " 

The  old  man  looked  at  him  sadly. 

"  Remember  this  well,"  he  went  on,  catching  his  breath ; 
"our  power  lasts  as  long  as  it's  believed  in.  If  we're  at- 
tacked, the  Government  reasons :  *  They  are  assailed  be- 
cause in  them  is  seen  an  obstacle  to  liberty :  therefore  we 
must  support  them !  * " 

"  But  if  the  Government  should  listen  to  our  enemies,  if 
it  should  come  to  covet  what  we  have  amassed — if  there 
should  be  a  man  hardy  enough " 

"Ah!  then  beware!" 

Both  were  silent. 

"  And  too,"  the  sick  man  continued,  "  we  have  need  of 
attack  to  show  us  our  faults  and  make  us  better  them.  Too 
much  flattery  deceives  us ;  we  sleep ;  and  more,  it  makes  us 
ridiculous,  and  the  day  we  become  ridiculous  we  fall  as 
we  have  fallen  in  Europe.  Money  will  no  longer  come  to 
our  churches.  No  one  will  buy  scapulary,  penitential  cords, 
anything;  and  when  we  cease  to  be  rich,  we  can  no  longer 
convince  the  conscience.  And  the  worst  is,  that  we're 
working  our  own  destruction.  For  one  thing,  this  immoder- 
ate thirst  for  gain,  which  I've  combated  in  vain  in  all  our 
chapters,  this  thirst  will  be  our  ruin.  I  fear  we  are  already 
declining.     God  blinds  whom  He  will  destroy." 


28  An  Eagle  Flight 

"  We  shall  always  have  our  lands." 

*'  But  every  year  we  raise  their  price,  and  force  the  Indian 
to  buy  of  others.  The  people  are  beginning  to  murmur. 
We  ought  not  to  increase  the  burdens  we've  already  laid  on 
their  shoulders." 

"  So  your  reverence  believes  that  the  revenues " 

"  Talk  no  more  of  money,"  interrupted  the  old  man  with 
aversion.  "  You  say  the  lieutenant  threatened  Father  Da- 
maso  ? " 

"Yes,  Father,"  replied  Sibyla,  half  smiling;  "but  this 
morning  he  told  me  the  sherry  had  mounted  to  his  head, 
and  he  thought  it  must  have  been  the  same  with  Brother 
Damaso.  '  And  your  threat? '  I  asked  jestingly.  '  Father,' 
said  he,  *  I  know  how  to  keep  my  word  when  it  doesn't 
smirch  my  honor;  I  was  never  an  informer — and  that's  why 
I  am  only  a  lieutenant.' " 

Though  the  lieutenant  had  not  carried  out  his  threat  to 
go  to  Malacanan,  the  captain-general  none  the  less  knew 
what  had  happened.     A  young  officer  told  the  story. 

"From  whom  do  you  have  it?"  demanded  His  Excel' 
lency,  smiling. 

"  From  De  Laruja." 

The  captain-general  smiled  again,  and  added : 

"  Woman's  tongue,  monk's  tongue  doesn't  wound.  I 
don't  wish  to  get  entangled  with  these  men  in  skirts.  Be- 
sides, the  provincial  made  light  of  my  orders;  to  punish 
this  priest  I  demanded  that  his  parish  be  changed.  Well, 
they  gave  him  a  better.     Monkishness!  as  we  say  in  Spain." 

Alone,  His  Excellency  ceased  to  smile. 

"  Oh  1  if  the  people  were  not  so  dense,  how  easy  to  bridle 
their  reverences!     But  every  nation  merits  its  lot!  " 

Meanwhile  Captain  Tiago  finished  his  conference  with 
Father  Damaso. 


Affairs  of  the  Country  29 

"And  now  you  are  warned,"  said  the  Franciscan  upon 
leaving.  "This  would  have  been  avoided  if  you  hadn't 
equivocated  when  I  asked  you  how  the  matter  stood.  Don't 
make  any  more  false  moves,  and  trust  her  godfather." 

Captain  Tiago  took  two  or  three  turns  about  the  room, 
reflecting  and  sighing.  Then  suddenly,  as  if  a  happy 
thought  had  struck  him,  running  to  the  oratory,  he  extin- 
guished the  two  candles  lighted  for  the  safeguard  of  Ibarra. 


X. 

THE   PUEBLO. 

Almost  on  the  banks  of  the  lake,  in  the  midst  of  meadows 
and  streams,  is  the  pueblo  of  San  Diego.  It  exports  sugar, 
rice,  coffee,  and  fruits,  or  sells  these  articles  of  merchandise 
at  low  prices  to  Chinese  traders. 

When,  on  a  clear  day,  the  children  climb  to  the  top  stage 
of  the  moss-grown  and  vine-clad  church  tower,  there  are 
joyous  exclamations.  Each  picks  out  his  own  little  roof 
of  nipa,  tile,  zinc,  or  palm.  Beyond  they  see  the  rio,  a 
monstrous  crystal  serpent  asleep  on  a  carpet  of  green. 
Trunks  of  palm  trees,  dipping  and  swaying,  join  the  two 
banks,  and  if,  as  bridges,  they  leave  much  to  be  desired  for 
trembling  old  men  and  poor  women  who  must  cross  with 
heavy  baskets  on  their  heads,  on  the  other  hand  they  make 
fine  gymnastic  apparatus  for  the  young. 

But  what  besides  the  rio  the  children  never  fail  to  talk 
about  is  a  certain  wooded  peninsula  in  this  sea  of  culti- 
vated land.  Its  ancient  trees  never  die,  unless  the  lightning 
strikes  their  high  tops.  Dust  gathers  layer  on  layer  in  their 
hollow  trunks,  the  rain  makes  soil  of  it,  the  birds  bring 
seeds,  a  tropical  vegetation  grows  there  in  wild  freedom : 
bushes,  briers,  curtains  of  netted  bind-weed,  spring  from 
the  roots,  reach  from  tree  to  tree,  hang  swaying  from  the 
branches,  and  Flora,  as  if  yet  unsatisfied,  sows  on  the  trees 
themselves;  mosses  and  fungi  live  on  the  creased  bark,  and 
graceful  aerial  guests  pierce  with  their  tendrils  the  hospit- 
able branches. 


The  Pueblo  31 

This  wood  is  the  subject  of  a  legend. 

When  the  pueblo  was  but  a  group  of  poor  cabins,  there 
arrived  one  day  a  strange  old  Spaniard  with  marvellous 
eyes,  who  scarcely  spoke  the  Tagal.  He  wished  to  buy 
lands  having  thermal  springs,  and  did  so,  paying  in  money, 
dress,  and  jewelry.  Suddenly  he  disappeared,  leaving  no 
trace.  The  people  of  the  pueblo  had  begun  to  think  of  him 
as  a  magician,  when  one  day  his  body  was  found  hanging 
high  to  the  branch  of  a  giant  fig  tree.  After  it  had  been 
buried  at  the  foot  of  the  tree,  no  one  cared  much  to  venture 
in  that  quarter. 

A  few  months  later  there  arrived  a  ^oung  Spanish  half- 
breed,  who  claimed  to  be  the  old  man's  son.  He  settled,  and 
gave  himself  to  agriculture.  Don  Saturnino  was  taciturn 
and  of  violent  temper,  but  very  industrious.  Late  in  life  he 
married  a  woman  of  Manila,  who  bore  him  Don  Rafael, 
the  father  of  Crisostomo. 

Don  Rafael,  from  his  youth,  was  much  beloved.  He 
rapidly  developed  his  father's  lands,  the  population  multi- 
plied, the  Chinese  came,  the  hamlet  grew  to  a  pueblo,  the 
native  curate  died  and  was  replaced  by  Father  Damaso. 
And  all  this  time  the  people  respected  the  sepulchre  of  the 
old  Spaniard,  and  held  it  in  superstitious  awe.  Sometimes, 
armed  with  sticks  and  stones,  the  children  dared  run  near 
it  to  gather  wild  fruits;  but  while  they  were  busy  at  this, 
or  stood  gazing  at  the  bit  of  rope  still  dangling  from  the 
limb,  a  stone  or  two  would  fall  from  no  one  knew  where. 
Then  with  cries  of  "  The  old  man !  the  old  man ! "  they 
threw  down  sticks  and  fruit,  ran  in  all  directions,  between 
the  rocks  and  bushes,  and  did  not  stop  till  they  were  out  of 
the  woods,  all  pale  and  breathless,  some  crying,  few  daring 
to  laugh. 


XI. 

THE   SOVEREIGNS. 

Who  was  the  ruler  of  the  pueblo?  Not  Don  Rafael 
during  his  lifetime,  though  he  possessed  the  most  land,  and 
nearly  every  one  owed  him.  As  he  was  modest,  and  gave 
little  value  to  his  deeds,  no  party  formed  around  him,  and 
we  have  seen  how  he  was  deserted  and  attacked  when  his 
fortunes  fell. 

Was  it  Captain  Tiago?  It  is  true  his  arrival  was  always 
heralded  with  music,  he  was  given  banquets  by  his  debtors, 
and  loaded  with  presents ;  but  he  was  laughed  at  in  secret, 
and  called  Sacristan  Tiago. 

Was  it  by  chance  the  town  mayor,  the  goberna-dorcillo? 
Alas!  he  was  an  unfortunate,  who  governed  not,  but  obeyed ; 
did  not  dispose,  but  was  disposed  of.  And  yet  he  had  to 
answer  to  the  alcalde  for  all  these  dispositions,  as  if  they 
emanated  from  his  own  brain.  Be  it  said  in  his  favor  that 
he  had  neither  stolen  nor  usurped  his  honors,  but  that  they 
cost  him  five  thousand  pesos  and  much  humiliation. 

Perhaps  then  it  was  God?  But  to  most  of  these  good 
people,  God  seemed  one  of  those  poor  kings  surrounded  by 
favorites  to  whom  their  subjects  always  take  their  supplica- 
tions, never  to  them. 

No,  San  Diego  was  a  sort  of  modern  Rome.  The  curate 
was  the  pope  at  the  Vatican ;  the  alfdrez  of  the  civil  guard, 
the  King  in  the  Quirinal.  Here  as  there,  difficulties  arose 
from  the  situation. 

The  present  curate,   Brother   Bernardo   Salvi,  was  the 


The  Sovereigns  33 

young  and  silent  Franciscan  we  have  already  seen.  In 
mode  of  life  and  in  appearance  he  was  very  unlike  his 
predecessor,  Brother  Damaso.  He  seemed  ill,  was  always 
thoughtful,  accomplished  strictly  his  religious  duties,  and 
was  careful  of  his  reputation.  Through  his  zeal,  almost  all 
his  parishioners  had  speedily  become  members  of  the  Third 
Order  of  St.  Francis,  to  the  great  dismay  of  the  rival  order, 
that  of  the  Holy  Rosary.  Four  or  five  scapularies  were 
suspended  around  every  neck,  knotted  cords  encircled  all 
the  waists,  and  the  innumerable  processions  of  the  order 
were  a  joy  to  see.  The  head  sacristan  took  in  a  small 
fortune,  selling — or  giving  as  alms,  to  put  it  more  correctly 
— all  the  paraphernalia  necessary  to  save  the  soul  and 
combat  the  devil.  It  is  well  known  that  this  evil  spirit, 
who  once  dared  attack  God  face  to  face,  and  accuse  His 
divine  word,  as  the  book  of  Job  tells  us,  is  now  so  cowardly 
and  feeble  that  he  flees  at  sight  of  a  bit  of  painted  cloth, 
and  fears  a  knotted  cord. 

Brother  Salvi  again  greatly  differed  from  Brother  Damaso 
— who  set  everything  right  with  fists  or  ferrule,  believing  it 
the  only  way  to  reach  the  Indian — in  that  he  punished  with 
fines  the  faults  of  his  subordinates,  rarely  striking  them. 

From  his  struggles  with  the  curate,  the  alfdrez  had  a 
bad  reputation  among  the  devout,  which  he  deserved,  and 
shared  with  his  wife,  a  hideous  and  vile  old  Filipino  woman 
named  Dona  Consolacion.  The  husband  avenged  his  con- 
jugal woes  on  himself  by  drinking  like  a  fish;  on  his 
subordinates,  by  making  them  exercise  in  the  sun;  and 
most  frequently  on  his  wife,  by  kicks  and  drubbings.  The 
two  fought  famously  between  themselves,  but  were  of  one 
mind  when  it  was  a  question  of  the  curate.  Inspired  by 
his  wife,  the  officer  ordered  that  no  one  be  abroad  in  the 
streets  after  nine  at  night.  The  priest,  who  did  not  like 
this  restriction,  retorted  in  lengthy  sermons,  whenever  the 
3 


34  An  Eagle  Flight 

alf^rez  went  to  church.  Like  all  impenitents,  the  alfdrez 
did  not  mend  his  ways  for  that,  but  went  out  swearing  under 
his  breath,  arrested  the  first  sacristan  he  met,  and  made  him 
clean  the  yard  of  the  barracks.  So  the  war  went  on.  All 
this,  however,  did  not  prevent  the  alfdrez  and  the  curate 
chatting  courteously  enough  when  they  met. 

And  they  were  the  rulers  of  the  pueblo  of  San  Diego. 


XII. 

ALL  saints'   day. 

The  cemetery  of  San  Diego  is  in  the  midst  of  rice-fields. 
It  is  approached  by  a  narrow  path,  powdery  on  sunny  days, 
navigable  on  rainy.  A  wooden  gate  and  a  wall  half  stone, 
half  bamboo  stalks,  succeed  in  keeping  out  men,  but  not 
the  curate's  goats,  nor  the  pigs  of  his  neighbors.  In  the 
middle  of  the  enclosure  is  a  stone  pedestal  supporting  a 
great  wooden  cross.  Storms  have  bent  the  strip  of  tin  on 
which  were  the  I.  N.  R.  I.,  and  the  rain  has  washed  off  the 
letters.  At  the  foot  of  the  cross  is  a  confused  heap  of  bones 
and  skulls  thrown  out  by  the  grave-digger.  Everywhere 
grow  in  all  their  vigor  the  bitter-sweet  and  rose-bay.  Some 
tiny  flowerets,  too,  tint  the  ground — blossoms  which,  like 
the  mounded  bones,  are  known  to  their  Creator  only.  They 
are  like  little  pale  smiles,  and  their  odor  scents  of  the  tomb. 
Grass  and  climbing  plants  fill  the  corners,  cover  the  walls, 
adorning  this  otherwise  bare  ugliness;  they  even  penetrate 
the  tombs,  through  earthquake  fissures,  and  fill  their  yawn- 
ing gaps. 

At  this  hour  two  men  are  digging  near  the  crumbling 
wall.  One,  the  grave-digger,  works  with  the  utmost  in- 
difference, throwing  aside  a  skull  as  a  gardener  would  a 
stone.  The  other  is  preoccupied;  he  perspires,  he  breathes 
hard. 

"  Oh ! "  he  says  at  length  in  Tagalo.  "  Hadn't  we  better 
dig  in  some  other  place?     This  grave  is  too  recent." 

"  All  the  graves  are  the  same,  one  is  as  recent  as  another." 


36  An  Eagle  Flight 

"I  can't  endure  this!" 

"  What  a  woman !  You  should  go  and  be  a  clerk !  If 
you  had  dug  up,  as  I  did,  a  boy  of  twenty  days,  at  night, 
in  the  rain " 

"  Uh-h-h!     And  why  did  you  do  that?  " 

The  grave-digger  seemed  surprised. 

"  Why  ?     How  do  I  know,  I  was  ordered  to." 

"  Who  ordered  you?  " 

At  this  question  the  grave-digger  straightened  himself, 
and  examined  the  rash  young  man  from  head  to  foot. 

"  Come !  come !  You're  curious  as  a  Spaniard.  A 
Spaniard  asked  me  the  same  question,  but  in  secret.  I'm 
going  to  say  to  you  what  I  said  to  him :  the  curate  ordered 
it." 

"Oh!  and  what  did  you  do  with  the  body?  " 

"  The  devil !  if  I  didn't  know  you,  I  should  take  you  for 
the  police.  The  curate  told  me  to  bury  it  in  the  Chinese 
cemetery,  but  it's  a  long  way  there,  and  the  body  was  heavy. 
*  Better  be  drowned,'  I  said  to  myself,  *  than  lie  with  the 
Chinese,'  and  I  threw  it  into  the  lake." 

"  No,  no,  stop  digging ! "  interrupted  the  younger  man, 
with  a  cry  of  horror,  and  throwing  down  his  spade  he 
sprang  out  of  the  grave. 

The  grave-digger  watched  him  run  off  signing  himself, 
laughed,  and  went  to  work  again. 

The  cemetery  began  to  fill  with  men  and  women  in 
mourning.  Some  of  them  came  for  a  moment  to  the  open 
grave,  discussed  some  matter,  seemed  not  to  be  agreed,  and 
separated,  kneeling  here  and  there.  Others  were  lighting 
candles;  all  began  to  pray  devoutly.  One  heard  sighing 
and  sobs,  and  over  all  a  confused  murmur  of  ^^  requiem 
cBtematn." 

A  little  old  man,  with  piercing  eyes,  entered  uncovered. 
At  sight  of  him  some  laughed,  others  frowned.     The  old 


All  Saints*  Day  ^     37 

man  seemed  to  take  no  account  of  this.  He  went  to  the 
heap  of  skulls,  knelt,  and  searched  with  his  eyes.  Then 
with  the  greatest  care  he  lifted  the  skulls  one  by  one,  wrin- 
kling his  brows,  shaking  his  head,  and  looking  on  all  sides. 
At  length  he  rose  and  approached  the  grave-digger. 

"Ho!"  said  he. 

The  other  raised  his  eyes. 

"  Did  you  see  a  beautiful  skull,  white  as  the  inside  of  a 
cocoanut?" 

The  grave-digger  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Look,"  said  the  old  man,  showing  a  piece  of  money; 
"  it's  all  I  have,  but  I'll  give  it  to  you  if  you  find  it." 

The  gleam  of  silver  made  the  man  reflect.  He  looked 
toward  the  heap  and  said : 

" It  isn't  there ?     No?     Then  I  don't  know  where  it  is." 

"You  don't  know?  When  those  who  owe  me  pay,  I'll 
give  you  more.  'Twas  the  skull  of  my  wife,  and  if  you  find 
it " 

"  It  isn't  there  ?  Then  I  know  nothing  about  it,  but  I  can 
give  you  another." 

"You  are  like  the  grave  you  dig,"  cried  the  old  man, 
furious.  "  You  know  not  the  value  of  what  you  destroy ! 
For  whom  is  this  gave  ?  " 

"  How  do  I  know  ?  For  a  dead  man !  "  replied  the  other 
with  temper. 

"  Like  the  grave,  like  the  grave,"  the  old  man  repeated 
with  a  dry  laugh.  "  You  know  neither  what  you  cast  out 
nor  what  you  keep.  Dig!  dig!  "  And  he  went  toward  the 
gate. 

Meanwhile  the  grave-digger  had  finished  his  task,  and 
two  mounds  of  fresh,  reddish  earth  rose  beside  the  grave. 
Drawing  from  his  pocket  some  buyo,  he  regarded  dully  what 
was  going  on  around  him,  sat  down,  and  began  to  chew. 

At  that  moment  a  carriage,  which  had  apparently  made 


38  An  Eagle  Flight 

a  long  journey,  stopped  at  the  entrance  to  the  cemetery. 
Ibarra  got  out,  followed  by  an  old  servant,  and  silently 
made  his  way  along  the  path. 

"  It  is  there,  behind  the  great  cross,  senor,"  said  the  ser- 
vant, as  they  approached  the  spot  where  the  grave-digger 
was  sitting. 

Arrived  at  the  cross,  the  old  servant  looked  on  all  sides, 
and  became  greatly  confused.  "  It  was  there,"  he  muttered ; 
"  no,  there,  but  the  ground  has  been  broken." 

Ibarra  looked  at  him  in  anguish. 

The  servant  appealed  to  the  grave-digger. 

"  Where  is  the  grave  that  was  marked  with  a  cross  like 
this?  "  he  demanded;  and  stooping,  he  traced  a  Byzantine 
cross  on  the  ground. 

"  Were  there  flowers  growing  on  it?  " 

"Yes,  jasmine  and  pansies." 

The  grave-digger  scratched  his  ear  and  said  with  a  yawn : 

"  Well,  the  cross  I  burned." 

"  Burned !  and  why  ?  " 

"  Because  the  curate  ordered  it."  1 

Ibarra  drew  his  hand  across  his  forehead. 

"  But  at  least  you  can  show  us  the  grave." 

"The  body's  no  longer  there,"  said  the  grave-digger 
calmly. 

"  What  are  you  saying  1 " 

"  Yes,"  the  man  went  on,  with  a  smile,  "  I  put  a  woman 
in  its  place,  eight  days  ago." 

"Are  you  mad?  "  cried  the  servant;  "  it  isn't  a  year  since 
he  was  buried," 

"  Father  Damaso  ordered  it ;  he  told  me  to  take  the  body 
to  the  Chinese  cemetery ;  I " 

He  got  no  farther,  and  started  back  in  terror  at  sight  of 
Crisostomo's  face.  Crisostomo  seized  his  arm.  "  And  you 
did  it?  "  he  demanded,  in  a  terrible  voice. 


All  Saints*   Day  39 

"  Don't  be  angry,  seiior,"  replied  the  grave-digger,  pale 
and  trembling.  "I  didn't  bury  him  with  the  Chinese. 
Better  be  drowned  than  that,  I  thought  to  myself,  and  I 
threw  him  into  the  water." 

Ibarra  stared  at  him  like  a  madman.  "You're  only  a 
poor  fool ! "  he  said  at  length,  and  pushing  him  away,  he 
rushed  headlong  for  the  gate,  stumbling  over  graves  and 
bones,  and  painfully  followed  by  the  old  servant. 

*'  That's  what  the  dead  bring  us,"  grumbled  the  grave- 
digger.  "The  curate  orders  me  to  dig  the  man  up,  and 
this  fellow  breaks  my  arm  for  doing  it.  That's  the  way 
with  the  Spaniards.     I  shall  lose  my  place! " 


XIII. 

THE   LITTLE   SACRISTANS. 

The  little  old  man  of  the  cemetery  wandered  absent- 
minded  along  the  streets. 

He  was  a  character  of  the  pueblo.  He  had  once  been 
a  student  in  philosophy,  but  abandoned  his  course  at  the 
demands  of  his  mother.  The  good  woman,  finding  that  her 
son  had  talent,  feared  lest  he  become  a  savant  and  forget 
God;  she  let  him  choose,  therefore,  between  studying  for 
the  priesthood  and  leaving  the  college  of  San  ]os6.  He 
was  in  love,  took  the  latter  course,  and  married.  Widowed 
and  orphaned  within  a  year,  he  found  in  books  a  deliverance 
from  sadness,  idleness,  and  the  gallera.  Unhappily  he 
studied  too  much,  bought  too  many  books,  neglected  to  care 
for  his  fortune,  and  came  to  financial  ruin.  Some  people 
called  him  Don  Astasio,  or  Tasio  the  philosopher;  others, 
and  by  far  the  greater  number,  Tasio  the  fool. 

The  afternoon  threatened  a  tempest.  Pale  flashes  of 
lightning  illumined  the  leaden  sky;  the  atmosphere  was 
heavy  and  close. 

Arrived  at  the  church  door,  Tasio  entered  and  spoke  to 
two  little  boys,  one  ten  years  old  perhaps,  the  other 
seven. 

•'  Coming  with  me?  "  he  asked.  "  Your  mother  has  ready 
a  dinner  fit  for  curates," 

"The  head  sacristan  won't  let  us  leave  yet,"  said  the 
elder.     "  We're  going  into  the  tower  to  ring  the  bells." 

"Take  carel  don't  go  too  near  the  bells  in  the  storm," 


The  Little  Sacristans  41 

said  Tasio,  and,  head  down,  he  went  off,  thinking,  toward 
the  outskirts  of  the  town. 

Soon  the  rain  came  down  in  torrents,  the  thunder  echoed 
clap  on  clap,  each  detonation  preceded  by  an  awful  zig-zag 
of  fire.  The  tempest  grew  in  fury,  and,  scarce  able  to  ride 
on  the  shifting  wind,  the  plaintive  voices  of  the  bells  rang 
out  a  lamentation. 

The  boys  were  in  the  tower,  the  younger,  timid,  in  spite 
of  his  great  black  eyes,  hugging  close  to  his  brother.  They 
resembled  one  another,  but  the  elder  had  the  stronger  and 
more  thoughtful  face.  Their  dress  was  poor,  patched,  and 
darned.  The  wind  beat  in  the  rain  a  little,  where  they 
were,  and  set  the  flame  of  their  candle  dancing. 

"  Pull  your  rope,  Crispin,"  said  the  elder  to  his  little 
brother. 

Crispin  pulled,  and  heard  a  feeble  plaint,  quickly  silenced 
by  a  thunder  crash.  "  If  we  were  only  home  with  mama," 
he  mourned,  "I  shouldn't  be  afraid." 

The  other  did  not  answer.  He  watched  the  candle  melt, 
and  seemed  thoughtful. 

"At  least,  no  one  there  would  call  me  a  thief;  mama 

would  not  have  it.     If  she  knew  they  had  beaten  me " 

The  elder  gave  the  great  cord  a  sharp  pull ;  a  deep,  sonor- 
ous tone  trembled  out. 

"Pay  what  they  say  I  stole  1     Pay  it,  brother! " 

"  Are  you  mad,  Crispin  ?  Mama  would  have  nothing  to 
eat;  they  say  you  stole  two  onces,  and  two  onces  make 
thirty-two  pesos." 

The  little  fellow  counted  thirty-two  on  his  fingers. 

"  Six  hands  and  two  fingers.  And  each  finger  makes  a 
peso,  and  each  peso  how  many  cuartos?  " 

"  A  hundred  sixty." 

"And  how  much  is  a  hundred  sixty?  " 

"  Thirty-two  hands." 


42  An  Eagle  Flight 

Crispin  regarded  his  little  paws. 

"Thirty-two  hands,"  he  said,  and  each  finger  a  cuarto! 
O  mama!  how  many  cuartos!  and  with  them  one  could 
buy  shoes,  and  a  hat  for  the  sun,  and  an  umbrella^  for  the 
rain,  and  clothes  for  mama." 

Crispin  became  pensive. 

"  What  I'm  afraid  of  is  that  mama  will  be  angry  with  you 
when  she  hears  about  it." 

"You  think  so?"  said  Crispin,  surprised.  "But  I've 
never  had  a  cuarto  except  the  one  they  gave  me  at  Easter. 
Mama  won't  believe  I  stole;  she  won't  believe  it!  " 

"  But  if  the  curate  says  so " 

Crispin  began  to  cry,  and  said  through  his  sobs: 

"  Then  go  alone,  I  won't  go.     Tell  mama  I'm  sick." 

"  Crispin,  don't  cry,"  said  his  brother.  "  If  mama  seems 
to  believe  what  they  say,  you'll  tell  her  that  the  sacristan 
lies,  that  the  curate  believes  him,  that  they  say  we  are 
thieves  because  our  father " 

A  head  came  out  of  the  shadows  in  the  little  stairway, 
and  as  if  it  had  been  Medusa's,  it  froze  the  words  on  the 
children's  lips. 

The  head  was  long  and  lean,  with  a  shock  of  black 
hair.  Blue  glasses  concealed  one  sightless  eye.  It  was 
the  chief  sacristan  who  had  thus  stolen  upon  the  chil- 
dren. 

"  You,  Basilio,  are  fined  two  r^ales  for  not  ringing  regu- 
larly. And  you,  Crispin,  stay  to-night  till  you  find  what 
you've  stolen." 

"  We  have  permission,"  began  Basilio**,  "  our  mother  ex- 
pects us  at  nine." 

"You  won't  go  at  nine  o'clock  either;  you  shall  stay  till 
ten." 

"  But,  senor,  after  nine  one  can't  pass  through  the 
streets " 


The  Little  Sacristans 


43 


"Are  you  trying  to  dictate  to  me?"  demanded  the 
sacristan,  and  he  seized  Crispin's  arm. 

. "  Seiior,  we  have  not  seen  our  mother  for  a  week,"  en- 
treated Basilic,  taking  hold  of  his  brother  as  if  to  protect 
him. 

With  a  stroke  on  the  cheek  the  sacristan  made  him  let 
go,  and  dragged  off  Crispin,  who  commenced  to  cry,  let 
himself  fall,  tried  to  cling  to  the  floor,  and  besought  Basilio 
to  keep  him.  But  the  sacristan,  dragging  the  child,  disap- 
peared in  the  shadows. 

Basilio  stood  mute.  He  heard  his  little  brother's  body 
strike  against  the  stairs ;  he  heard  a  cry,  blows,  heart-rend- 
ing words,  growing  fainter  and  fainter,  lost  at  last  in  the 
distance. 

"  When  shall  I  be  strong  enough  ? "  he  murmured,  and 
dashed  down  the  stairs. 

He  reached  the  choir  and  listened.  He  could  still  hear 
his  little  brother's  voice;  then  over  the  cry,  "Mama! — 
Brother!"  a  door  shut.  Trembling,  damp  with  sweat, 
holding  his  mouth  with  his  hand  to  stifle  a  cry,  he  stood  a 
moment  looking  about  in  the  dim  church.  The  doors  were 
closed,  the  windows  barred.  He  went  back  to  the  tower, 
did  not  stop  at  the  second  stage,  where  the  bells  were  rung, 
but  climbed  to  the  third,  loosed  the  ropes  that  held  the 
tongues  of  the  bells,  then  went  down  again,  pale,  his  eyes 
gleaming,  but  without  tears. 

The  rain  commenced  to  slacken  and  the  sky  to  clear. 
Basilio  knotted  the  ropes,  fastened  an  end  to  a  beam  of  the 
balcony,  and,  forgetting  to  blow  out  the  candle,  glided  down 
into  the  darkness. 

Some  minutes  later  voices  were  heard  in  a  street  of  the 
pueblo,  and  two  rifle  shots  rang  out;  but  it  raised  no  alarm, 
and  all  again  became  silent 


XIV. 

SISA. 

Nearly  an  hour's  walk  from  the  pueblo  lived  the  mother 
of  Basilio  and  Crispin,  wife  of  a  man  who  passed  his  time 
in  lounging  or  watching  cock-fights  while  she  struggled  to 
bring  up  their  children.  The  husband  and  wife  saw  each 
other  rarely,  and  their  interviews  were  painful.  To  feed 
his  vices,  he  had  robbed  her  of  her  few  trinkets,  and  when 
the  unhappy  Sisa  had  nothing  more  with  which  to  satisfy 
his  caprices  he  began  to  abuse  her.  Without  much  strength 
of  will,  dowered  with  more  heart  than  reason,  she  only  knew 
how  to  love  and  to  weep.  Her  husband  was  a  god,  her  chil- 
dren were  angels.  He,  who  knew  how  much  he  was  adored 
and  feared,  like  other  false  gods,  grew  more  and  more  arbi- 
trary and  cruel. 

The  stars  were  glittering  in  the  sky  cleared  by  the  tempest. 
Sisa  sat  on  the  wooden  bench,  her  chin  in  her  hand,  watch- 
ing some  branches  smoulder  on  her  hearth  of  uncut  stones. 
On  these  stones  was  a  little  pan  where  rice  was  cooking, 
and  among  the  cinders  were  three  dry  sardines. 

She  was  still  young,  and  one  saw  she  had  been  beautiful. 
Her  eyes,  which,  with  her  soul,  she  had  given  to  her  sons, 
were  fine,  deep,  and  fringed  with  dark  lashes;  her  face  was 
regular;  her  skin  pure  olive.  In  spite  of  her  youth,  suffer- 
ing, hunger  sometimes,  had  begun  to  hollow  her  cheeks. 
Her  abundant  hair,  once  her  glory,  was  still  carefully 
dressed — but  from  habit,  not  coquetr}'. 

All  day  Sisa  had  been  thinking  of  the  pleasure  coming  at 


Sisa  45 

night.  She  picked  the  finest  tomatoes  in  her  garden — 
favorite  dish  of  little  Crispin;  from  her  neighbor,  Tasio, 
she  got  a  fillet  of  wild  boar  and  a  wild  duck's  thigh  for 
Basilio,  and  she  chose  and  cooked  the  whitest  rice  on  the 
threshing-floor. 

Alas!  the  father  arrived.  Good-by  to  the  dinner!  He 
ate  the  rice,  the  filet  of  wild  boar,  the  duck's  thigh,  and  the 
tomatoes.  Sisa  said  nothing,  happy  to  see  her  husband 
satisfied,  and  so  much  happier  that,  having  eaten,  he  re- 
membered he  had  children  and  asked  where  they  were. 
The  poor  mother  smiled.  She  had  promised  herself  to  eat 
nothing — there  was  not  enough  left  for  three ;  but  the  father 
had  thought  of  his  sons,  that  was  better  than  food. 

Sisa,  left  alone,  wept  a  little;  but  she  thought  of  her  chil- 
dren, and  dried  her  tears.  She  cooked  the  little  rice  she 
had  left,  and  the  three  sardines. 

Attentive  to  every  sound,  she  now  sat  listening:  a  foot- 
fall strong  and  regular,  it  was  Basilio's;  light  and  unsteady, 
Crispin's. 

But  the  children  did  not  come. 

To  pass  the  time,  she  hummed  a  song.  Her  voice  was 
beautiful,  and  when  her  children  heard  her  sing  "  Kundi- 
man "  they  cried,  without  knowing  why.  To-night  her 
voice  trembled,  and  the  notes  came  tardily. 

She  went  to  the  door  and  scanned  the  road.  A  black 
dog  was  there,  searching  about.  It  frightened  Sisa,  and 
she  threw  a  stone,  sending  the  dog  off  howling. 

Sisa  was  not  superstitious,  but  she  had  so  often  heard  of 
black  dogs  and  presentiments  that  terror  seized  her.  She 
shut  the  door  in  haste  and  sat  down  by  the  light.  She 
prayed  to  the  Virgin,  to  God  Himself,  to  take  care  of  her 
boys,  and  most  for  the  little  Crispin.  Then,  drawn  away 
from  prayer  by  her  sole  preoccupation,  she  thought  no  longer 
of  aught  but  her  children,  of  all  their  ways,  which  seemed 


46  An  Eagle  Flight 

to  her  so  pleasing.  Then  the  terror  returned.  Vision  or 
reality,  Crispin  stood  by  the  hearth,  where  he  often  sat  to 
chatter  to  her.  He  said  nothing,  but  looked  at  her  with 
great,  pensive  eyes,  and  smiled. 

"  Mother,  open !  Open  the  door,  mother !  "  said  Basilio's 
voice  outside. 

Sisa  shuddered,  and  the  vision  disappeared. 


XV. 

BASILIO. 
Life  is  a  Dream, 

Basilio  had  scarcely  strength  to  enter  and  fall  into  his 
mother's  arms.  A  strange  cold  enveloped  Sisa  when  she 
saw  him  come  alone.  She  wished  to  speak,  but  found  no 
words ;  to  caress  her  son,  but  found  no  force.  Yet  at  the 
sight  of  blood  on  his  forehead,  her  voice  came,  and  she 
cried  in  a  tone  which  seemed  to  tell  of  a  breaking  heart- 
string: 

"  My  children !  " 

"Don't  be  frightened,  mama;  Crispin  stayed  at  the  con- 
vent." 

"  At  the  convent?     He  stayed  at  the  convent?     Living?  " 

The  child  raised  his  eyes  to  hers. 

"  Ah ! "  she  cried,  passing  from  the  greatest  anguish  to 
the  utmost  joy.  She  wept,  embraced  her  child,  covered 
with  kisses  his  wounded  forehead. 

"  And  why  are  you  hurt,  my  son?     Did  you  fall?  " 

Basilio  told  her  he  had  been  challenged  by  the  guard, 
ran,  was  shot  at,  and  a  ball  had  grazed  his  forehead. 

"  O  God!  I  thank  Thee  that  Thou  didst  save  him!  "  mur- 
mured the  mother. 

She  went  for  lint  and  vinegar  water,  and  while  she  band- 
aged his  wound : 

"Why,"  she  asked,  "did  Crispin  stay  at  the  convent? " 

Basilio  looked  at  her,  kissed  her,  then  little  by  little 
told  the  story  of  the  lost  money;  he  said  nothing  of  the 


48  An  Eagle  Flight 

torture  of  his  little  brother.  Mother  and  child  mingled 
their  tears. 

"Accuse  my  good  Crispin!  It's  because  we  are  poor, 
and  the  poor  must  bear  everything,"  murmured  Sisa.  Both 
were  silent  a  moment. 

"But  you  have  not  eaten,"  said  the  mother.  "Here  are 
sardines  and  rice." 

"  I'm  not  hungry,  mama ;  I  only  want  some  water." 

"  Yes,  eat,"  said  the  mother.  "  I  know  you  don't  like 
dry  sardines,  and  I  had  something  else  for  you;  but  your 
father  came,  my  poor  child." 

"My  father  came?"  and  Basilio  instinctively  examined 
his  mother's  face  and  hands. 

The  question  pained  the  mother;  she  sighed. 

"You  won't  eat.?     Then  we  must  go  to  bed;  it  is  late." 

Sisa  barred  the  door  and  covered  the  fire.  Basilio  mur- 
mured his  prayers,  and  crept  on  the  mat  near  his  mother, 
who  was  still  on  her  knees.  She  was  warm,  he  was  cold. 
He  thought  of  his  little  brother,  who  had  hoped  to  sleep 
this  night  close  to  his  mother's  side,  trembling  with  fear 
in  some  dark  corner  of  the  convent.  He  heard  his  cries  as 
he  had  heard  them  in  the  tower ;  but  Nature  soon  confused 
his  ideas  and  he  slept. 

In  the  middle  of  the  night  Sisa  wakened  him. 

"  What  is  it,  Basilio?     Why  are  you  crying?  " 

"I  was  dreaming.  O  mama!  it  was  a  dream,  wasn't  it? 
Say  it  was  nothing  but  a  dream !  " 

"  What  were  you  dreaming  ?  " 

He  did  not  answer,  but  sat  up  to  dry  his  tears. 

"  Tell  me  the  dream,"  said  Sisa,  when  he  had  lain  down 
again.     "  I  cannot  sleep." 

"It  is  gone  now,  mama;  I  don't  remember  it  all." 

Sisa  did  not  insist :  she  attached  no  importance  to  dreams. 

"Mama,"  said  Basilio  after  a  moment  of  silence,  "I'm 


Basilio  49 

not  sleepy  either.     I  had  a  project  last  evening.     I  don't 
want  to  be  a  sacristan." 

"What?" 

"Listen,  mama.  The  son  of  Don  Rafael  came  home 
from  Spain  to-day;  he  should  be  as  kind  as  his  father. 
Well,  to-morrow  I  find  Crispin,  get  my  pay,  and  say  I'm 
not  going  to  be  a  sacristan.  Then  I'll  go  see  Don  Crisds- 
tomo  and  ask  him  to  make  me  a  buifalo-keeper.  Crispin 
could  go  on  studying  with  old  Tasio.  Tasio's  better  than 
the  curate  thinks ;  I've  often  seen  him  praying  in  the  church 
when  no  one  else  was  there.  What  shall  I  lose  in  not  being 
a  sacristan?  One  earns  little  and  loses  it  all  in  fines,  I'll 
be  a  herdsman,  mama,  and  take  good  care  of  the  cows  and 
carabaos,  and  make  my  master  love  me;  then  perhaps  he'll 
let  us  have  a  cow  to  milk:  Crispin  loves  milk.  And  I 
could  fish  in  the  rivers  and  go  hunting  when  I  get  big. 
And  by  and  by  perhaps  I  could  have  a  little  land  and  sow 
sugar-cane.  We  could  all  live  together,  then.  And  old 
Tasio  says  Crispin  is  very  bright.  By  and  by  we  would 
send  him  to  study  at  Manila,  and  I  would  work  for  him. 
Shall  we,  mama?  He  might  be  a  doctor;  what  do  you 
say?" 

"  What  can  I  say,  except  that  you  are  right,"  answered 
Sisa,  kissing  her  son. 

Basilio  went  on  with  his  projects,  talking  with  the  con- 
fidence of  a  child.  Sisa  said  yes  to  everything.  But  little 
by  little  sleep  came  back  to  the  child's  lids,  and  this  time 
he  did  not  cry  in  his  dreams:  that  Ole-Luk-Oie,  of  whom 
Andersen  tells  us,  unfurled  over  his  head  the  umbrella  with 
its  lining  of  gay  pictures.  But  the  mother,  past  the  age  of 
careless  slumbers,  did  not  sleep. 
4 


XVI. 

AT  THE    MANSE. 

It  was  seven  o'clock  when  Brother  Salvi  finished  his  last 
mass.  He  took  off  his  priestly  robes  without  a  word  to 
any  one. 

"  Look  out !  "  whispered  the  sacristans ;  "  it  is  going  to 
rain  fines !     And  all  for  the  fault  of  those  children !  " 

The  father  came  out  of  the  sacristy  and  crossed  to  the 
manse.  On  the  porch  six  or  seven  women  sat  waiting  for 
him,  and  a  man  was  walking  to  and  fro.  The  woman  rose, 
and  one  bent  to  kiss  his  hand,  but  the  priest  made  such  a 
gesture  of  impatience  that  she  stopped  short. 

"  He  must  have  lost  a  real  miser,"  she  cried  mockingly, 
when  he  had  passed.  "  This  is  something  unheard  of :  re- 
fuse his  hand  to  the  zealous  Sister  Ruf  a  ?  " 

"  He  was  not  in  the  confessional  this  morning,"  said  a 
toothless  old  woman,  Sister  Sipa.  "I  wanted  to  confess, 
so  as  to  get  some  indulgences." 

"  I  have  gained  three  plenary  indulgences,"  said  a  young 
woman  of  pleasing  face,  "  and  applied  them  all  to  the  soul 
of  my  husband." 

"You  have  done  wrong,"  said  Sister  Rufa,  "one  plenary 
is  enough ;  you  should  not  squander  the  holy  indulgences. 
Do  as  I  do." 

"  I  said  to  myself,  the  more  there  are  the  better,"  replied 
young  sister  Juana,  smiling;  "  but  what  do  you  do?  " 

Sister  Rufa  did  not  respond  at  once;  she  chewed  her  buyo^ 


At  the  Manse  51 

and  scanned  her  audience  attentively ;  at  length  she  decided 
to  speak. 

"  Well,  this  is  what  I  do.  Suppose  I  gain  a  year  of  in- 
dulgences; I  say:  Blessed  Senor  Saint  Dominic,  have  the 
kindness  to  see  if  there  is  some  one  in  purgatory  who  has 
need  of  precisely  a  year.  Then  I  play  heads  or  tails.  If 
it  falls  heads,  no;  if  tails,  yes.  If  it  falls  heads,  I  keep  the 
indulgence,  and  so  I  make  groups  of  a  hundred  years,  for 
which  there  is  always  use.  It's  a  pity  one  can't  loan  in- 
dulgences at  interest.     But  do  as  I  do,  it's  the  best  plan." 

At  this  point  Sisa  appeared.  She  said  good  morning  to 
the  women,  and  entered  the  manse. 

"  She's  gone  in,  let  us  go  too,"  said  the  sisters,  and  they 
followed  her. 

Sisa  felt  her  heart  beat  violently.  She  did  not  know 
what  to  say  to  the  curate  in  defence  of  her  child.  She  had 
risen  at  daybreak,  picked  all  the  fine  vegetables  left  in  her 
garden,  and  arranged  them  in  a  basket  with  platane  leaves 
and  flowers,  and  had  been  to  the  river  to  get  a  fresh  salad 
of  pakb.  Then,  dressed  in  the  best  she  had,  the  basket  on 
her  head,  without  waking  her  son,  she  had  set  out  for  the 
pueblo. 

She  went  slowly  through  the  manse,  listening  if  by  chance 
she  might  hear  a  well-known  voice,  fresh  and  childish.  But 
she  met  no  one,  heard  nothing,  and  went  on  to  the  kitchen. 

The  servants  and  sacristans  received  her  coldly,  scarcely 
answering  her  greetings. 

"  Where  may  I  put  these  vegetables?  "  she  asked,  without 
showing  offence. 

"  There — wherever  you  want  to,"  replied  the  cook  curtly. 

Sisa,  half-smiling,  placed  all  in  order  on  the  table,  and 
laid  on  top  the  flowers  and  the  tender  shoots  of  \}a&  pakb; 
then  she  asked  a  servant  who  seemed  more  friendly  than 
the  cook: 


52  An  Eagle  Flight 

"  Do  you  know  if  Crispin  is  in  the  sacristy?  " 

The  servant  looked  at  her  in  surprise. 

"Crispin?"  said  he,  wrinkling  his  brows;  "isn't  he  at 
home  ? " 

"Basilio  is,  but  Crispin  stayed  here." 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  stayed,  but  he  ran  off  afterward  with  all 
sorts  of  things  he'd  stolen.  The  curate  sent  me  to  report 
it  at  the  quarters.  The  guards  must  be  on  their  way  to  your 
house  by  this  time." 

Sisa  could  not  believe  it;  she  opened  her  mouth,  but  her 
lips  moved  in  vain. 

"Go  find  your  children,"  said  the  cook.  "Everybody 
sees  you're  a  faithful  woman ;  the  children  are  like  their 
father!" 

Sisa  stifled  a  sob,  and,  at  the  end  of  her  strength,  sat  down. 

"  Don't  cry  here,"  said  the  cook  still  more  roughly,  "  the 
curate  is  ill ;  don't  bother  him !     Go  cry  in  the  street!  " 

The  poor  woman  got  up,  almost  by  force,  and  went  down 
the  steps  with  the  sisters,  who  were  still  gossiping  of  the 
curate's  illness.  Once  on  the  street  she  looked  about  un- 
certain ;  then,  as  if  from  a  sudden  resolution,  moved  rapidly 
away. 


XVII. 

STORY   OF  A   SCHOOLMASTER. 

The  lake,  girt  with  hills,  lies  tranquil,  as  if  it  had  not 
been  shaken  by  yesterday's  tempest.  At  the  first  gleam 
of  light  which  wakes  the  phosphorescent  spirits  of  the 
water,  almost  on  the  bounds  of  the  horizon,  gray  silhou- 
ettes slowly  take  shape.  These  are  the  barks  of  fishermen 
drawing  in  their  nets ;  cascos  and  paraos  shaking  out  their 
sails. 

From  a  height,  two  men  in  black  are  silently  surveying 
the  lake.  One  is  Ibarra,  the  other  a  young  man  of  humble 
dress  and  melancholy  face. 

"  This  is  the  place,"  said  the  stranger,  "  where  the  grave- 
digger  brought  us,  Lieutenant  Guevara  and  me." 

Ibarra  uncovered,  and  stood  a  long  time  as  if  in  prayer. 

When  the  first  horror  at  the  story  of  his  father's  desecrated 
grave  had  passed,  he  had  bravely  accepted  what  could  not  be 
undone.  Private  wrongs  must  go  unavenged,  if  one  would 
not  add  to  the  wrongs  of  the  country:  Ibarra  had  been 
trained  to  live  for  these  islands,  daughters  of  Spain.  In 
his  country,  too,  a  charge  against  a  monk  was  a  charge 
against  the  Church,  and  Crisdstomo  was  a  loyal  Catholic; 
if  he  knew  how  in  his  mind  to  separate  the  Church  from  her 
unworthy  sons,  most  of  his  fellow-countrymen  did  not.  And, 
again,  his  intimate  life  was  all  here.  The  last  of  his  race, 
his  home  was  his  family ;  he  loved  ideally,  and  he  loved  the 
goddaughter  of  the  malevolent  priest.     He  was  rich,  and 


54  An  Eagle  Flight 

therefore  powerful  still — and  he  was  young.  Ibarra  had 
taken  up  his  life  again  as  he  had  found  it. 

His  prayer  finished,  he  warmly  grasped  the  young  man's 
hand. 

"Do  not  thank  me,"  said  the  other;  "I  owe  everything 
to  your  father.  I  came  here  unknown;  your  father  pro- 
tected me,  encouraged  my  work,  furnished  the  poor  children 
with  books.     How  far  away  that  good  time  seems!  " 

"And  now.?" 

"  Ah !  now  we  get  along  as  best  we  can." 

Ibarra  was  silent. 

"How  many  pupils  have  you?  " 

"More  than  two  hundred  on  the  list — in  the  classes, 
fifty-five." 

"And  how  is  that?" 

The  schoolmaster  smiled  sadly. 

"  It  is  a  long  story." 

"Don't  think  I  ask  from  curiosity,"  said  Ibarra.  "I 
have  thought  much  about  it,  and  it  seems  to  me  better  to 
try  to  carry  out  my  father's  ideas  than  to  weep  or  to  avenge 
his  death.  I  wish  to  inspire  myself  with  his  spirit.  That 
is  why  I  ask  this  question." 

"The  country  will  bless  your  memory,  senor,  if  you  carry 
out  the  splendid  projects  of  your  father.  You  wish  to  know 
the  obstacles  I  meet?  In  a  word,  the  plan  of  instruction  is 
hopeless.  The  children  read,  write,  learn  by  heart  passages, 
sometimes  whole  books,  in  Castilian,  without  understand- 
ing a  single  word.  Of  what  use  is  such  a  school  to  the 
children  of  our  peasants!  " 

"You  see  the  evil,  what  remedy  do  you  propose? " 

"I  have  none,"  said  the  young  man;  "one  cannot  strug- 
gle alone  against  so  many  needs  and  against  certain  influ- 
ences. I  tried  to  remedy  the  evil  of  which  I  just  spoke;  I 
tried  to  carry  out  the  order  of  the  Government,  and  began 


Story  of  a  Schoolmaster  55 

to  teach  the  children  Spanish.  The  beginning  was  excel 
lent,  but  one  day  Brother  Damaso  sent  for  me.  I  went  up 
immediately,  and  I  said  good-day  to  him  in  Castilian. 
Without  replying,  he  burst  into  laughter.  At  length  he 
said,  with  a  sidelong  glance :  "  What  buenos  dias  I  buenos 
dias I  It's  very  pretty.  You  know  Spanish?"  and  he 
began  to  laugh  again. 

Ibarra  could  not  repress  a  smile. 

"You  laugh,"  said  the  teacher,  "and  I,  too,  now;  but  I 
assure  you  I  had  no  desire  to  then.  I  started  to  reply,  I 
don't  know  what,  but  Brother  Damaso  interrupted : 

" '  Don't  wear  clothes  that  are  not  your  own,'  he  said  in 
Tagal ;  '  be  content  to  speak  your  own  language.  Do  you 
know  about  Ciruela?  Well,  Ciruela  was  a  master  who 
could  neither  read  nor  write,  yet  he  kept  school.'  And  he 
left  the  room,  slamming  the  door  behind  him.  What  was  I 
to  do?  What  could  I,  against  him,  the  highest  authority  of 
the  pueblo,  moral,  political,  and  civil;  backed  by  his  order, 
feared  by  the  Government,  rich,  powerful,  always  obeyed 
and  believed.  To  withstand  him  was  to  lose  my  place,  and 
break  off  my  career  without  hope  of  another.  Every  one 
would  have  sided  with  the  priest.  I  should  have  been 
called  proud,  insolent,  no  Christian,  perhaps  even  anti- 
Spanish  2,xi^6i  filibuster 0.  Heaven  forgive  me  if  I  denied  my 
conscience  and  my  reason,  but  I  was  born  here,  must  live 
here,  I  have  a  mother,  and  I  abandoned  myself  to  my  fate, 
as  a  cadaver  to  the  wave  that  rolls  it." 

"And  you  lost  all  hope?  You  have  tried  nothing 
since  ? " 

"  I  was  rash  enough  to  try  two  more  experiments,  one 
after  our  change  of  curates;  but  both  proved  offensive  to 
the  same  authority.  Since  then  I  have  done  my  best  to 
convert  the  poor  babies  into  parrots." 

"  Well,  I  have  cheerful  news  for  you,"  said  Ibarra.     "  I 


56  An  Eagle  Flight 

am  soon  to  present  to  the  Government  a  project  that  will 
help  you  out  of  your  difficulties,  if  it  is  approved." 

The  school-teacher  shook  his  head. 

"You  will  see,  Senor  Ibarra,  that  your  projects — I've 
heard  something  of  them — will  no  more  be  realized  than 
were  mine ! " 


XVIII. 

THE   STORY   OF   A   MOTHER. 

SiSA  was  running  toward  her  poor  little  home.  She 
had  experienced  one  of  those  convulsions  of  being  which 
we  know  at  the  hour  of  a  great  misfortune,  when  we  see  no 
possible  refuge  and  all  our  hopes  take  flight.  If  then  a 
ray  of  light  illumine  some  little  corner,  we  fly  toward  it 
without  stopping  to  question. 

Sisa  ran  swiftly,  pursued  by  many  fears  and  dark  pre- 
sentiments. Had  they  already  taken  her  Basilio?  Where 
had  her  Crispin  hidden  ? 

As  she  neared  her  home,  she  saw  two  soldiers  coming 
out  of  the  little  garden.  She  lifted  her  eyes  to  heaven; 
heaven  was  smiling  in  its  ineffable  light;  little  white  clouds 
swam  in  the  transparent  blue. 

The  soldiers  had  left  her  house;  they  were  coming  away 
without  her  children.  Sisa  breathed  once  more;  her  senses 
came  back. 

She  looked  again,  this  time  with  grateful  eyes,  at  the  sky, 
furrowed  now  by  a  band  of  garzas,  those  clouds  of  airy  gray 
peculiar  to  the  Philippines ;  confidence  sprang  again  in  her 
heart;  she  walked  on.  Once  past  those  dreadful  men,  she 
would  have  run,  but  prudence  checked  her.  She  had  not 
gone  far,  when  she  heard  herself  called  imperiously.  She 
turned,  pale  and  trembling  in  spite  of  herself.  One  of  the 
guards  beckoned  her. 

Mechanically  she  obeyed:  she  felt  her  tongue  grow  para- 
lyzed, her  throat  parch. 


58  An  Eagle  Flight 

"  Speak  the  truth,  or  we'll  tie  you  to  this  tree  and  shoot 
you,"  said  one  of  the  guards. 

Sisa  could  do  nothing  but  look  at  the  tree. 

"You  are  the  mother  of  the  thieves?  " 

"The  mother  of  the  thieves?"  repeated  Sisa,  without 
comprehending. 

"Where  is  the  money  your  sons  brought  home  last 
night?" 

"  Ah !  the  money " 

"Give  us  the  money,  and  we'll  let  you  alone." 

"  Senores,"  said  the  unhappy  woman,  gathering  her  senses 
again,  "my  boys  do  not  steal,  even  when  they're  hungry; 
we  are  used  to  suffering.  I  have  not  seen  my  Crispin  for  a 
week,  and  Basilio  did  not  bring  home  a  cuarto.  Search  the 
house,  and  if  you  find  a  rdal,  do  what  you  will  with  us;  the 
poor  are  not  all  thieves." 

"  Well  then,"  said  one  of  the  soldiers,  fixing  his  eyes  on 
Sisa's,  "follow  us!" 

"I — follow  you?"  And  she  drew  back  in  terror,  her 
eyes  on  the  uniforms  of  the  guards.  "  Oh,  have  pity  on  me ! 
I'm  very  poor,  I've  nothing  to  give  you,  neither  gold  nor 
jewelry.  Take  everything  you  find  in  my  miserable  cabin, 
but  let  me — let  me — die  here  in  peace!  " 

"  March !  do  you  hear  ?  and  if  you  don't  go  without  mak- 
ing trouble,  we'll  tie  your  hands." 

"Let  me  walk  a  little  way  in  front  of  you,  at  least,"  she 
cried,  as  they  laid  hold  of  her. 

The  soldiers  spoke  together  apart. 

"  Very  well,"  said  one,  "  when  we  get  to  the  pueblo,  you 
may.     March  on  now,  and  quick! " 

Poor  Sisa  thought  she  must  die  of  shame.  There  was  no 
one  on  the  road,  it  is  true;  but  the  air?  and  the  light? 
She  covered  her  face,  in  her  humiliation,  and  wept  silently. 
She  was  indeed  very  miserable;  every  one,  even  her  hus- 


The  Story  of  a  Mother  59 

band,  had  abandoned  her;  but  until  now  she  had  always 
felt  herself  respected. 

As  they  neared  the  pueblo,  fear  seized  her.  In  her  agony 
she  looked  on  all  sides,  seeking  some  succor  in  nature — 
death  in  the  river  would  be  so  sweet.  But  no!  She 
thought  of  her  children;  here  was  a  light  in  the  darkness 
of  her  soul. 

"  Afterward,"  she  said  to  herself, — "  afterward,  we  will  go 
to  live  in  the  heart  of  the  forest." 

She  dried  her  eyes,  and  turning  to  the  guards: 

"  We  are  at  the  pueblo,"  she  said.  Her  tone  was  inde- 
scribable ;  at  once  a  complaint,  an  argument,  and  a  prayer. 

The  soldiers  took  pity  on  her;  they  replied  with  a  gesture. 
Sisa  went  rapidly  forward,  then  forced  herself  to  walk  tran- 
quilly. 

A  tolling  of  bells  announced  the  end  of  the  high  mass. 
Sisa  hastened,  in  the  hope  of  avoiding  the  crowd  from  the 
church,  but  in  vain.  Two  women  she  knew  passed,  looked 
at  her  questioningly;  she  bowed  with  an  anguished  smile, 
then,  to  avoid  new  mortifications,  she  fixed  her  eyes  on  the 
ground. 

At  sight  of  her  people  turned,  whispered,  followed  with 
their  eyes,  and  though  her  eyes  were  turned  away,  she  di- 
vined, she  felt,  she  saw  it  all.  A  woman  who  by  her  bare 
head,  her  dress,  and  her  manners  showed  what  she  was, 
cried  boldly  to  the  soldiers : 

"Where  did  you  find  her?     Did  you  get  the  money.?  " 

Sisa  seemed  to  have  taken  a  blow  in  the  face.  The 
ground  gave  way  under  her  feet. 

"This  way!  "  cried  a  guard. 

Like  an  automaton  whose  mechanism  is  broken  she  turned 
quickly,  and,  seeing  nothing,  feeling  nothing  but  instinct, 
tried  to  hide  herself.  Agate  was  before  her;  she  would 
have  entered  but  a  voice  still  more  imperious  checked  her. 


6o  An  Eagle  Flight 

While  she  sought  to  find  whence  the  voice  came,  she  felt 
herself  pushed  along  by  the  shoulders.  She  closed  her 
eyes,  took  two  steps,  then  her  strength  left  her  and  she  fell. 

It  was  the  barracks.  In  the  yard  were  soldiers,  women, 
pigs,  and  chickens.  Some  of  the  women  were  helping  the 
men  mend  their  clothes  or  clean  their  arms,  and  humming 
ribald  songs. 

"Where  is  the  sergeant? "  demanded  one  of  the  guards 
angrily.     "Has  the  alfdrez  been  informed?  " 

A  shrug  of  the  shoulders  was  the  sole  response;  no  one 
would  take  any  trouble  for  the  poor  woman. 

Two  long  hours  she  stayed  there,  half  mad,  crouched  in 
a  corner,  her  face  hidden  in  her  hands,  her  hair  undone.  At 
noon  the  alfdrez  arrived.  He  refused  to  believe  the  cu- 
rate's accusations. 

"Bah!  monks'  tricks!"  said  he;  and  ordered  that  the 
woman  be  released  and  the  affair  dropped. 

"  If  he  wants  to  find  what  he's  lost,"  he  added,  "  let  him 
complain  to  the  nuncio !     That's  all  I  have  to  say." 

Sisa,  who  could  scarcely  move,  was  almost  carried  out  of 
the  barracks.  When  she  found  herself  in  the  street,  she  set 
out  as  fast  as  she  could  for  her  home,  her  head  bare,  her 
hair  loose,  her  eyes  fixed.  The  sun,  then  in  the  zenith, 
burned  with  all  his  fire:  not  a  cloud  veiled  his  resplendent 
disc.  The  wind  just  moved  the  leaves  of  the  trees;  not  a 
bird  dared  venture  from  the  shade  of  the  branches. 

At  length  Sisa  arrived.  Troubled,  silent,  she  entered 
her  poor  cabin,  ran  all  about  it,  went  out,  came  in,  went  out 
again.  Then  she  ran  to  old  Tasio's,  knocked  at  the  door. 
Tasio  was  not  there.  The  poor  thing  went  back  and  com- 
menced to  call,  "Basilio!  Crispin!"  standing  still,  lis- 
tening attentively.  An  echo  repeating  her  calls,  the  sweet 
murmur  of  water  from  the  river,  the  music  of  the  reeds 
stirred  by  the  breeze,  were  the  sole  voices  of  the  solitude. 


The  Story  of  a  Mother  6i 

She  called  anew,  mounted  a  hill,  went  down  into  a  ravine; 
her  wandering  eyes  took  a  sinister  expression ;  from  time  to 
time  sharp  lights  flashed  in  them,  then  they  were  obscured, 
like  the  sky  in  a  tempest.  One  might  have  said  the  light 
of  reason,  ready  to  go  out,  revived  and  died  down  in  turn. 

She  went  back,  and  sat  down  on  the  mat  where  they  had 
slept  the  night  before — she  and  Basilio — and  raised  her 
eyes.  Caught  in  the  bamboo  fence  on  the  edge  of  the  preci- 
pice, she  saw  a  piece  of  Basilio's  blouse.  She  got  up,  took 
it,  and  examined  it  in  the  sunlight.  There  were  blood  spots 
on  it,  but  Sisa  did  not  seem  to  see  them.  She  bent  over 
and  continued  to  look  at  this  rag  from  her  child's  clothing, 
raised  it  in  the  air,  bathing  it  in  the  brazen  rays.  Then, 
as  if  the  last  gleam  of  light  within  her  had  finally  gone  out, 
she  looked  straight  at  the  sun,  with  wide-staring  eyes. 

At  length  she  began  to  wander  about,  crying  out  strange 
sounds.  One  hearing  her  would  have  been  frightened;  her 
voice  had  a  quality  the  human  larynx  would  hardly  know 
how  to  produce. 

The  sun  went  down;  night  surprised  her.  Perhaps 
Heaven  gave  her  sleep,  and  an  angel's  wing,  brushing  her 
pale  forehead,  took  away  that  memory  which  no  longer  re- 
called anything  but  griefs.  The  next  day  Sisa  roamed 
about,  smiling,  singing,  and  conversing  with  all  the  beings 
of  great  Nature. 

Three  days  passed,  and  the  inhabitants  of  San  Diego  had 
ceased  to  talk  or  think  of  unhappy  Sisa  and  her  boys. 
Maria  Clara,  who,  accompanied  by  Aunt  Isabel,  had  just 
arrived  from  Manila,  was  the  chief  subject  of  conversation. 
Every  one  rejoiced  to  see  her,  for  every  one  loved  her.  They 
marvelled  at  her  beauty,  and  speculated  about  her  marriage 
with  Ibarra.  On  this  evening,  Crisdstomo  presented  him- 
self at  the  home  of  his  fiancde;  the  curate  arrived  at  the 


62  An  Eagle  Flight 

same  moment.  The  house  was  a  delicious  little  nest  among 
orange-trees  and  ylang-ylang.  They  found  Maria  by  an 
open  window,  overlooking  the  lake,  surrounded  by  the  fresh 
foliage  and  delicate  perfume  of  vines  and  flowers. 

"The  winds  blow  fresh,"  said  the  curate;  "aren't  you 
afraid  of  taking  cold  ?  " 

"  I  don't  feel  the  wind,  father,"  said  Maria. 

"We  Filipinos,"  said  Crisostomo,  "find  this  season  of 
autumn  and  spring  together  delicious.  Falling  leaves  and 
budding  trees  in  February,  and  ripe  fruit  in  March,  with  no 
cold  winter  between,  is  very  agreeable.  And  when  the  hot 
months  come  we  know  where  to  go." 

The  priest  smiled,  and  the  conversation  turned  to  the 
pueblo  and  the  festival  of  its  patron  saint,  which  was  near. 

"  Speaking  of  fetes,"  said  Crisostomo  to  the  curate,  "  we 
hope  you  will  join  us  in  a  picnic  to-morrow,  near  the  great 
fig-tree  in  the  v/ood.  The  arrangements  are  all  made  as 
you  wished,  Maria.  A  small  party  is  to  start  for  the  fish- 
ing-ground before  sunrise,"  he  went  on  to  the  curate,  "  and 
later  we  hope  to  be  joined  by  all  our  friends  of  the  pueblo." 

The  curate  said  he  should  be  happy  to  come  after  his 
services  were  said.  They  chatted  a  few  moments  longer, 
and  then  Ibarra  excused  himself  to  finish  giving  his  invita- 
tions and  make  his  final  arrangements. 

As  he  left  the  house  a  man  saluted  him  respectfully. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  asked  Crisdstomo. 

"You  would  not  know  my  name,  seiiorj  I  have  been  try- 
ing to  see  you  for  three  days." 

"  And  what  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  Senor,  my  wife  has  gone  mad,  my  children  are  lost,  and 
no  one  will  help  me  find  them.     I  want  your  aid." 

"  Come  with  me,"  said  Ibarra. 

The  man  thanked  him,  and  they  disappeared  together  in 
the  darkness  of  the  un lighted  streets^ 


XIX. 

THE    FISHING    PARTY. 

The  stars  were  yet  brilliant  in  the  sapphire  vault,  and  in 
the  branches  the  birds  were  still  asleep  when  a  merry  party 
went  through  the  streets  of  the  pueblo,  toward  the  lake, 
lighted  by  the  glimmer  of  the  pitch  torches  here  called 
huepes. 

There  were  five  young  girls,  walking  rapidly,  holding 
each  other  by  the  hand  or  waist,  followed  by  several  elderly 
ladies,  and  servants  bearing  gracefully  on  their  heads 
baskets  of  provisions.  To  see  these  girls'  faces,  laughing 
with  youth,  to  judge  by  their  abundant  black  hair  flying 
free  in  the  wind,  and  the  ample  folds  of  their  garments,  we 
might  take  them  for  divinities  of  the  night  fleeing  at  the 
approach  of  day;  but  they  were  Maria  Clara  and  her  four 
friends,  the  merry  Sinang,  her  cousin,  the  calm  Victoria, 
beautiful  Iday,  and  pensive  Neneng.  They  talked  with 
animation,  pinched  each  other,  whispered  in  each  other's 
ears,  and  pealed  out  merry  rounds  of  laughter. 

After  a  while  there  came  to  meet  the  party  a  group  of 
young  men,  carrying  torches  of  reeds.  They  were  walking, 
silent,  to  the  sound  of  a  guitar. 

When  the  two  groups  met,  the  girls  became  serious  and 
grave.  The  men,  on  the  contrary,  talked,  laughed,  and  asked 
six  questions  to  get  half  a  reply. 

"Is  the  lake  smooth?  Do  you  think  we  shall  have  a  fine 
day?  "  demanded  the  mamas. 

"  Don't  be  disturbed,  seiioras,  I'm  a  splendid  swimmer," 


64  An  Eagle  Flight 

said  a  tall,  slim  fellow,  a  merry-looking  rascal  with  an  air 
of  mock  gravity. 

But  they  were  already  at  the  borders  of  the  lake,  and 
cries  of  delight  escaped  the  lips  of  the  women.  They  saw 
two  great  barks,  bound  together,  picturesquely  decked  with 
garlands  of  flowers  and  various-colored  festoons  of  fluffy 
drapery.  Little  paper  lanterns  hung  alternating  with  roses, 
pinks,  pineapples,  bananas,  and  guavas.  Rudders  and  oars 
were  decorated  too,  and  there  were  mats,  rugs,  and  cushions 
to  make  comfortable  seats  for  the  ladies.  In  the  boat,  most 
beautifully  trimmed,  were  a  harp,  guitars,  accordeons,  and  a 
carabao's  horn;  in  the  other  burned  a  ship's  fire;  and  tea, 
coffee  and  salabat — a  tea  of  ginger  sweetened  with  honey 
—were  making  for  the  first  breakfast. 

"  The  women  here,  the  men  there,"  said  the  mamas,  em- 
barking; "move  carefully,  don't  stir  the  boat  or  we  shall 
capsize ! " 

"And  we're  to  be  in  here  all  alone?  "  pouted  Sinang. 

Slowly  the  boats  left  the  beach,  reflecting  in  the  mirror 
of  the  lake  the  many  lights  of  their  lanterns.  In  the  east 
were  the  first  streaks  of  dawn. 

Comparative  silence  reigned.  The  separation  established 
by  the  ladies  seemed  to  have  dedicated  youth  to  meditation. 
The  water  was  perfectly  tranquil,  the  fishing-grounds  were 
near;  it  was  soon  decided  to  abandon  the  oars,  and  break- 
fast.    Day  had  come,  and  the  lanterns  were  put  out. 

It  was  a  beautiful  morning.  The  light  falling  from  the 
sky  and  reflected  from  the  water  made  radiant  the  surface 
of  the  lake,  and  bathed  everything  in  an  atmosphere  of 
clearness  saturated  with  color,  such  as  some  marines  sug- 
gest. Everybody,  even  the  mamas,  laughed  and  grew  merry. 
"  Do  you  remember,  when  we  were  girls — "  they  began  to 
each  other;  and  Maria  and  her  young  companions  exchanged 
smiling  glances. 


The  Fishing  Party  65 

One  man  alone  remained  a  stranger  to  this  gayety — it 
was  the  helmsman.  Young,  of  athletic  build,  his  melan- 
choly eyes  and  the  severe  lines  of  his  lips  gave  an  interest 
to  his  face,  and  this  was  heightened  by  his  long  black  hair 
falling  naturally  about  his  muscular  neck.  His  wrists  of 
steel  managed  like  a  feather  the  large  and  heavy  oar  which 
served  as  rudder  to  guide  the  two  barks. 

Maria  Clara  had  several  times  met  his  eyes,  but  he 
quickly  turned  them  away  to  the  shores  or  the  mountains. 
Pitying  his  solitude,  she  offered  him  some  cakes.  With  a 
certain  surprise  he  took  one,  refusing  the  others,  and 
thanked  her  in  a  voice  scarcely  audible.  No  one  else 
seemed  to  think  of  him. 

The  early  breakfast  done,  the  party  moved  off  toward  the 
fishing  enclosures.  There  were  two,  a  little  distance  apart, 
both  the  property  of  Captain  Tiago.  In  advance,  a  flock 
of  white  herons  could  be  seen,  some  moving  among  the 
reeds,  some  flying  here  and  there,  skimming  the  water 
with  their  wings,  and  filling  the  air  with  their  strident 
cries.  Maria  Clara  followed  them  with  her  eyes,  as,  at 
the  approach  of  the  two  barks,  they  flew  away  from  the 
shore. 

"  Do  these  birds  have  their  nests  in  the  mountains  ?  "  she 
asked  the  helmsman,  less  perhaps  from  the  wish  to  know 
than  to  make  the  silent  fellow  talk. 

"Probably,  senora,"  he  replied,  "but  no  one  has  ever  yet 
seen  them." 

"They  have  no  nests,  then?  " 

"  I  suppose  they  must  have ;  if  not,  they  are  unhappy  in- 
deed." 

Maria  Clara  did  not  catch  the  note  of  sadness  in  his 
voice. 

"Well?" 

"  They  say,  seftora,  that  the  nests  of  these  birds  are  in- 
5 


66  An  Eagle  Flight 

visible,  and  have  the  power  to  render  invisible  whoever 
holds  them ;  that  as  the  soul  can  be  seen  only  in  the  mirror 
of  the  eyes,  so  these  nests  can  be  seen  only  in  the  mirror  of 
the  water." 

Maria  Clara  became  pensive.  But  they  had  come  to  the 
first  baklad,  as  the  enclosures  are  called.  The  old  sailor 
in  charge  attached  the  boats  to  the  reeds,  while  his  son  pre- 
pared to  mount  with  lines  and  nets. 

"Wait  a  moment,"  cried  Aunt  Isabel,  "the  fish  must 
come  directly  out  of  the  water  into  the  pan." 

"  What,  good  Aunt  Isabel ! "  said  Albino  reproach- 
fully, "  won't  you  give  the  poor  things  a  moment  in  the 
air?" 

Andeng,  Maria's  foster-sister,  was  a  famous  cook.  She 
began  to  prepare  rice  water,  the  tomatoes,  and  the  cam i as; 
the  young  men,  perhaps  to  win  her  good  graces,  aided  her, 
while  the  other  girls  arranged  the  melons,  and  cut  paayap 
into  cigarette- like  strips. 

To  while  away  the  time  Iday  took  up  the  harp,  the  in- 
strument most  often  played  in  this  part  of  the  islands.  She 
played  well,  and  was  much  applauded.  Maria  thanked  her 
with  a  kiss. 

"  Sing,  Victoria,  sing  the  *  Marriage  Song,' "  demanded 
the  ladies.  This  is  a  beautiful  Tagal  elegy  of  married  life, 
but  sad,  painting  its  miseries  rather  than  its  joys.  The 
men  clamored  for  it  too,  and  Victoria  had  a  lovely  voice; 
but  she  was  hoarse.  So  Maria  Clara  was  begged  to 
sing. 

"  All  my  songs  are  sad,"  she  said. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  her  companions,  and  without  more 
urging  she  took  the  harp  and  sang  in  a  rich  and  vibrant 
voice,  full  of  feeling. 

The  chant  ceased,  the  harp  became  mute ;  yet  no  one  ap- 
plauded; they  seemed  listening  still.     The  young  girls  felt 


The  Fishing  Party  67 

their  eyes  fill  with  tears;  Ibarra  seemed  disturbed;  the 
helmsman,  motionless,  was  gazing  far  away. 

Suddenly  there  came  a  crash  like  thunder.  The  women 
cried  out  and  stopped  their  ears.  It  was  Albino,  filling 
with  all  the  force  of  his  lungs  the  carabao's  horn.  There 
needed  nothing  more  to  bring  back  laughter,  and  dry 
tears. 

"  Do  you  wish  to  make  us  deaf,  pagan  ? "  cried  Aunt 
Isabel. 

"Senora,"  he  replied,  "I've  heard  of  a  poor  trumpeter 
who,  from  simply  playing  on  his  instrument,  became  the 
husband  of  a  rich  and  noble  lady." 

"  So  he  did — the  Trumpeter  of  Sackingen !  "  laughed 
Ibarra. 

"Well,"  said  Albino,  "we  shall  see  if  I  am  as  happy!" 
and  he  began  to  blow  again  with  still  more  force.  There 
was  a  panic:  the  mamas  attacked  him  hand  and  foot. 

"Ouch!  ouch!"  he  cried,  rubbing  his  hurts;  "the 
Philippines  are  far  from  the  borders  of  the  Rhine!  For 
the  same  deed  one  is  knighted,  another  put  in  the  san- 
benito!" 

At  last  Andeng  announced  the  kettle  ready  for  the  fish. 

The  fisherman's  son  now  climbed  the  weir  or  "  purse  "  of 
the  enclosure.  It  was  almost  circular,  a  yard  across,  so 
arranged  that  a  man  could  stand  on  top  to  draw  out  the  fish 
with  a  little  net  or  with  a  line. 

All  watched  him,  some  thinking  they  saw  already  the 
quiver  of  the  little  fishes  and  the  shimmer  of  their  silver 
scales. 

The  net  was  drawn  up;  nothing  in  it;  the  line,  no  fish 
adorned  it.  The  water  fell  back  in  a  shower  of  drops,  and 
laughed  a  silvery  laugh.  A  cry  of  disappointment  escaped 
from  every  mouth. 

''You  don't  understand  your  business,"  said  Albino, 
6 


68  An  Eagle  Flight 

climbing  up  by  the  young  man;  and  he  took  the  net. 
"  Look  now !     Ready,  Andeng !  " 

But  Albino  was  no  better  fisherman.     Everybody  laughed. 

"  Don't  make  a  noise,  you'll  drive  away  the  fish.  The 
net  must  be  broken."     But  every  mesh  was  intact. 

"  Let  me  try,"  said  Le'on,  the  fiance'e  of  Iday.  "  Are  you 
sure  no  one  has  been  here  for  five  days  ? " 

"  Absolutely  sure." 

"  Then  either  the  lake  is  enchanted  or  I  draw  out  some- 
thing." 

He  cast  the  line,  looked  annoyed,  dragged  the  hook 
along  in  the  water  and  murmured : 

"A  crocodile!" 

"A  crocodile!" 

The  word  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth  amid  general 
stupefaction. 

"What's  to  be  done?" 

"  Capture  him !  " 

But  nobody  offered  to  go  down.     The  water  was  deep. 

"  We  ought  to  drag  him  in  triumph  at  our  stem,"  said 
Sinang;  "he  has  eaten  our  fish!  " 

"  I've  never  seen  a  crocodile  alive,"  mused  Maria  Clara. 

The  helmsman  got  up,  took  a  rope,  lithely  climbed  the 
little  platform,  and  in  spite  of  warning  cries  dived  into 
the  weir.  The  water,  troubled  an  instant,  became  smooth; 
the  abyss  closed  mysteriously. 

"  Heaven  1 "  cried  the  women,  "  we  are  going  to  have  a 
catastrophe ! " 

The  water  was  agitated :  a  combat  seemed  to  be  going 
on  below.  Above,  there  was  absolute  silence.  Ibarra  held 
his  blade  in  a  convulsive  grasp.  Then  the  struggle  seemed 
to  end,  and  the  young  man's  head  appeared.  He  was 
saluted  with  joyous  cries.  He  climbed  the  platform,  hold- 
ing in  one  hand  an  end  of  the  rope.     Then  he  pulled  with 


The  Fishing  Party  69 

all  his  strength,  and  the  monster  came  in  view.  The  rope 
was  round  its  neck  and  the  fore  part  of  its  body;  it  was 
large,  and  on  its  back  could  be  seen  green  moss — to  a  croco- 
dile what  white  hair  is  to  man.  It  bellowed  like  an  ox, 
beat  the  reeds  with  its  tail,  crouched,  and  opened  its  jaws, 
black  and  terrifying,  showing  its  long  and  saw-like  teeth. 
No  one  thought  of  aiding  the  helmsman.  When  he  had 
drawn  the  reptile  out  of  the  water  he  put  his  foot  on  it, 
closed  with  his  robust  hand  the  redoubtable  jaws,  and  tried 
to  tie  the  muzzle.  The  creature  made  a  last  effort,  arched 
its  body,  beat  about  with  its  powerful  tail,  and  escaping, 
plunged  outside  the  enclosure  into  the  lake,  dragging  its 
vanquisher  after  it.  The  helmsman  was  a  dead  man.  A 
cry  of  horror  escaped  from  every  mouth. 

Like  a  flash,  another  body  disappeared  in  the  water. 
There  scarce  was  time  to  see  it  was  Ibarra's.  If  Maria 
Clara  did  not  faint,  it  was  that  the  natives  of  the  Philip- 
pines do  not  yet  know  how. 

The  waters  grew  red.  Then  the  young  fisherman  leaped 
in,  his  father  followed  him.  But  they  had  scarcely  disap- 
peared, when  Ibarra  and  the  helmsman  came  to  the  surface, 
clinging  to  the  crocodile's  body.  Its  white  belly  was  lacer- 
ated, Ibarra's  knife  was  in  the  gorge. 

Many  arms  stretched  out  to  help  the  two  young  men  from 
the  water.  The  mamas,  hysterical,  wept,  laughed,  and  prayed. 
Ibarra  was  unharmed.  The  helmsman  had  a  slight  scratch 
on  the  arm. 

"  I  owe  you  my  life,"  said  he  to  Ibarra,  who  was  being 
wrapped  in  mantles  and  rugs. 

"  You  are  too  intrepid,"  said  Ibarra.  "  Another  time  do 
not  tempt  God." 

"If  you  had  not  come  back!"  murmured  Maria  Clara, 
pale  and  trembling. 

The  ladies  did  not  approve  of  going  to  the  second  baklad; 


JO  An  Eagle  Flight 

to  their  minds  the  day  had  begun  ill ;  there  could  not  fail 
to  be  other  misfortunes ;  it  were  better  to  go  home. 

"But  what  misfortune  have  we  had?"  said  Ibarra. 
"  The  crocodile  alone  has  the  right  to  complain." 

At  length  the  mamas  were  persuaded,  and  the  barks  took 
their  course  toward  the  second  baklad. 


XX. 

IN   THE   WOODS. 

There  had  not  been  much  hope  in  this  second  baklad. 
Every  one  expected  to  find  there  the  crocodile's  mate ;  but 
the  net  always  came  up  full.  The  fishing  ended,  the  boats 
were  turned  toward  the  shore.  There  was  the  party  of  the 
townspeople  whom  Ibarra  had  invited  to  meet  his  guests  of 
the  morning,  and  lunch  with  them  under  improvised  tents 
beside  a  brook,  in  the  shade  of  the  ancient  trees  of  the 
wooded  peninsula.  Music  was  resounding  in  the  place, 
and  water  sang  in  the  kettles.  The  body  of  the  crocodile, 
in  tow  of  the  boats,  turned  from  side  to  side;  sometimes 
presenting  its  belly,  white  and  torn,  sometimes  its  spotted 
back  and  mossy  shoulders.  Man,  the  favorite  of  nature,  is 
little  disturbed  by  his  many  fratricides. 

The  party  dispersed,  some  going  to  the  baths,  some  wan- 
dering among  the  trees.  The  silent  young  helmsman  dis- 
appeared. A  path  with  many  windings  crossed  the  thicket 
of  the  wood  and  led  to  the  upper  course  of  the  warm  brook, 
formed  from  some  of  the  many  thermal  springs  on  the  flanks 
of  the  Makiling.  Along  the  banks  of  the  stream  grew  wood 
flowers,  many  of  which  have  no  Latin  names,  but  are  none 
the  less  known  to  golden  bugs,  to  butterflies,  shaded, 
jewelled,  and  bronzed,  and  to  thousands  of  coleopters  pow- 
dered with  gold  and  gleaming  with  facets  of  steel.  The 
hum  of  these  insects,  the  song  of  birds,  or  the  dry  sound  of 
dead  branches  catching  in  their  fall,  alone  broke  the  mys- 
terious silence.     Suddenly  the  tones  of  fresh,  young  voices 


72  An  Eagle  Flight 

were  added  to  the  wood  notes.  They  seemed  to  come  down 
the  brook. 

"  We  shall  see  if  I  find  a  nest ! "  said  a  sweet  and  reso- 
nant voice.  "  I  should  like  to  see  him  without  his  seeing 
me.     I  should  like  to  follow  him  everywhere." 

"I  don't  believe  in  heron's  nests,"  said  another  voice; 
"  but  if  I  were  in  love,  I  should  know  how  at  once  to  see 
and  to  be  invisible." 

It  was  Maria  Clara,  Victoria,  and  Sinang  walking  in  the 
brook.  Their  eyes  were  on  the  water,  where  they  were 
searching  for  the  mysterious  nest.  In  blouses  striped  with 
dainty  colors,  their  full  bath  skirts  wet  to  the  knees,  outlin- 
ing the  graceful  curves  of  their  bodies,  they  moved  along, 
seeking  the  impossible,  meanwhile  picking  flowers  along 
the  banks.  Soon  the  little  stream  bent  its  course,  and  the 
tall  reeds  hid  the  charming  trio  and  cut  off  the  sound  of 
their  voices. 

A  little  farther  on,  in  the  middle  of  the  stream,  was  a  sort 
of  bath,  well  enclosed,  its  roof  of  leafy  bamboo ;  palm  leaves, 
flowers,  and  streamers  decked  its  sides.  From  here,  too, 
came  girls'  voices.  Farther  on  was  a  bamboo  bridge,  and 
beyond  that  the  men  were  bathing,  while  a  multitude  of 
servants  were  busy  plucking  fowls,  washing  rice,  roasting 
pigs.  In  the  clearing  on  the  opposite  bank  a  group  of 
men  and  women  had  formed  under  a  great  canvas  roof,  at- 
tached in  part  to  the  branches  of  the  ancient  trees,  in  part 
to  pickets.  There  chatted  the  curate,  the  alf^rez,  the  vicar, 
the  gobernadorcillo,  the  lieutenant,  all  the  chief  men  of  the 
town,  including  the  famous  orator,  Captain  Basilio,  father 
of  Sinang  and  opponent  of  Don  Rafael  Ibarra  in  a  lawsuit 
not  yet  ended. 

"  We  dispute  a  point  at  law,"  Crisdstomo  had  said  in  in- 
viting him,  "but  to  dispute  is  not  to  be  enemies,"  and  the 
famous  orator  had  accepted  the  invitation. 


In  the  Woods       t  73 

Bottles  of  lemonade  were  opened  and  green  cocoanut 
shells  were  broken,  so  that  those  who  came  from  the  baths 
might  drink  the  fresh  water;  the  girls  were  given  wreaths 
of  ylang-ylang  and  roses  to  perfume  their  unbound  hair. 

The  lunch  hour  came.  The  curate,  the  alf^rez,  the  go- 
bernadorcillo,  some  captains,  and  the  lieutenant  sat  at  a 
table  with  Ibarra.  The  mamas  allowed  no  men  at  the  table 
with  the  girls. 

"Have  you  learned  anything,  senor  alfdrez,  about  the 
criminal  who  attacked  Brother  Damaso  ? "  said  Brother 
Salvi. 

"  Of  what  criminal  are  you  speaking?  "  asked  the  alf^rez, 
looking  at  the  father  over  his  glass  of  wine. 

"  What  ?  Why,  the  one  who  attacked  Brother  Damaso  on 
the  highway  day  before  yesterday." 

"  Father  Damaso  has  been  attacked  ? "  asked  several 
voices. 

"  Yes ;  he  is  in  bed  yet.  It  is  thought  the  maker  of  the 
assault  is  Elias,  the  one  who  threw  you  into  the  swamp 
some  time  ago,  senor  alferez." 

The  alfdrez  reddened  with  shame,  if  it  were  not  from 
emptying  his  glass  of  wine. 

"  But  I  supposed  you  were  informed,"  the  curate  went 
on ;  "I  said  to  myself  that  the  alferez  of  the  Municipal 
Guard " 

The  officer  bit  his  lip. 

At  that  moment  a  woman,  pale,  thin,  miserably  dressed, 
appeared,  like  a  phantom,  in  the  midst  of  the  feast. 

"  Give  the  poor  woman  something  to  eat,"  said  the  ladies. 

She  kept  on  toward  the  table  where  the  curate  was  seated. 
He  turned,  recognized  her,  and  the  knife  fell  from  his  hand. 

"  Give  the  woman  something  to  eat,"  ordered  Ibarra. 

"The  night  is  dark  and  the  children  are  gone,"  mur- 
mured the  poor  woman.     But  at  sight  of  the  alferez  she 


74  An  Eagle  Flight 

became    frightened    and    ran,    disappearing    among    the 
trees. 

"  Who  is  it? "  demanded  several  voices. 

"  Isn't  her  name  Sisa?  "  asked  Ibarra  with  interest. 

"Your  soldiers  arrested  her,"  said  the  lieutenant  to  the 
alfdrez,  with  some  bitterness;  "  they  brought  her  all  the  way 
across  the  pueblo  for  some  story  about  her  sons  that  no- 
body could  clear  up." 

"What!"  demanded  the  alf^rez,  turning  to  the  curate. 
"  It  is  perhaps  the  mother  of  your  sacristans?  " 

The  curate  nodded  assent. 

"  They  have  disappeared,  and  there  hasn't  been  the  slight- 
est eflFort  to  find  them,"  said  Don  Filipo  severely,  looking 
at  the  gobernadorcillo,  who  lowered  his  eyes. 
.  "Bring  back  the  woman,"  Crisdstomo  ordered   his  ser- 
vants. 

"They  have  disappeared,  did  you  say  ? "  demanded  the 
alfdrez.  "Your  sacristans  have  disappeared,  Father 
Salvi?" 

The  curate  emptied  his  glass  and  made  another  affirma- 
tive sign. 

"  Ho,  ho !  father,"  cried  the  alf^rez  with  a  mocking  laugh, 
rejoiced  at  the  prospect  of  revenge.  "Your  reverence  loses 
a  few  pesos,  and  my  sergeant  is  routed  out  to  find  them ; 
your  two  sacristans  disappear,  your  reverence  says  nothing; 
and  you  also,  senor  gobernadorcillo,  you  also " 

He  did  not  finish,  but  broke  off  laughing,  and  buried  his 
spoon  in  the  red  flesh  of  a  papaw. 

The  curate  began  with  some  confusion : 

"I  was  responsible  for  the  money." 

"  Excellent  reply,  reverend  pastor  of  souls!  "  interrupted 
the  alfdrez,  his  mouth  full.     "Excellent  reply, holy  man!  " 

Ibarra  was  on  the  point  of  interfering,  but  the  priest  re- 
covered himself. 


In  the  Woods  75 

"Do  you  know,  senor  alferez,"  he  asked,  "  what  is  said 
about  the  disappearance  of  these  children?  No?  Then 
ask  your  soldiers," 

"  What !  "  cried  the  alferez,  thus  challenged,  abandoning 
his  mocking  tone. 

"  They  say  that  on  the  night  when  they  disappeared  shots 
were  heard  in  the  pueblo." 

"Shots?"  repeated  the  alfdrez,  looking  at  the  faces 
around  him.     There  were  several  signs  of  assent. 

Brother  Salvi  went  on  with  a  sarcastic  smile : 

"  Come !  I  see  that  you  do  not  know  how  to  arrest  crimi- 
nals, that  you  are  unaware  of  what  your  soldiers  do,  but  that 
you  are  ready  to  turn  yourself  into  a  preacher  and  teach 
others  their  duty." 

"  Senores,"  interrupted  Ibarra,  seeing  the  alferez  grow 
pale,  "  I  wish  to  know  what  you  think  of  a  project  I've 
formed.  I  should  like  to  give  the  mother  into  the  care  of  a 
good  physician.  I've  promised  the  father  to  try  to  find  his 
children." 

The  return  of  the  servants  without  Sisa  gave  a  new  turn 
to  the  conversation.  The  luncheon  was  finished.  While 
the  tea  and  coffee  were  being  served  the  guests  separated 
into  groups,  the  elders  to  play  cards  or  chess,  while  the 
girls,  curious  to  learn  their  destiny,  posed  questions  to  the 
"  Wheel  of  Fortune." 

"Come,  Senor  Ibarra!"  cried  Captain  Basilio,  a  little 
gayer  than  usual ;  "  we've  had  a  case  in  court  for  fifteen 
years  and  no  judge  is  able  to  solve  it;  let's  see  if  we  can- 
not end  it  at  chess." 

"In  a  moment,  with  great  pleasure,"  said  Ibarra;  "the 
alferez  is  leaving  us." 

As  soon  as  the  officer  had  gone  the  men  grouped  around 
the  two  players.  It  was  to  be  an  interesting  game.  The 
elder  ladies  meanwhile  had  surrounded  the  curate,  to  talk 


76  An  Eagle  Flight 

with  him  of  the  things  of  religion;  but  Brother  Salvi  seemed 
to  judge  the  time  unfitting  and  made  but  vague  replies,  his 
rather  irritated  glance  being  directed  almost  everywhere  ex- 
cept toward  his  questioners. 

The  chess  players  began  with  much  solemnity. 

•'  If  the  game  is  a  tie,  the  affair  is  forgotten ! "  said 
Ibarra. 

In  the  midst  of  the  play  he  received  a  despatch.  His 
eyes  shone  and^he  became  pale,  but  he  put  the  message  in 
his  pocket  without  opening  it. 

"Check!"  he  cried.  Captain  Basil io  had  no  recourse 
but  to  hide  his  king  behind  the  queen. 

"  Check!  "  said  Ibarra,  threatening  with  his  castle. 

Captain  Basil  io  asked  a  moment  to  reflect. 

"  Willingly,"  said  Ibarra;  "  I,  too,  should  like  a  moment," 
and  excusing  himself  he  went  toward  the  group  round  the 
"  Wheel  of  Fortune." 

Iday  had  the  disc  on  which  were  the  forty-eight  questions, 
Albino  the  book  of  replies. 

"  Ask  something,"  they  all  cried  to  Ibarra,  as  he  came 
up.  "  The  one  who  has  the  best  answer  is  to  receive  a  pres- 
ent from  the  others." 

"  And  who  has  had  the  best  so  far?  " 

"Maria  Clara!"  cried  Sinang.  "We  made  her  ask 
whether  her  lover  is  constant  and  true,  and  the  book 
said " 

But  Maria,  all  blushes,  put  her  hand  over  Sinang's 
mouth. 

"  Give  me  the  '  Wheel '  then,"  said  Crisdstomo,  smiling. 
And  he  asked: 

"Shall  I  succeed  in  my  present  undertaking? " 

"What  a  stupid  question!  "  pouted  Sinang. 

The  corresponding  answer  was  found  in  the  book. 
" '  Dreams  are  dreams,'  "  read  Albino. 


In  the  Woods 


n 


Ibarra  brought  out  his  telegram  and  opened  it,  trembling. 

"  This  time  your  wheel  lies !  "  he  cried.     "  Read !  " 

»"  *  Project  for  school  approved.'  What  does  that  mean? " 
they  asked. 

"  This  is  my  present,"  said  he,  giving  the  despatch  to 
Maria  Clara.  "I'm  to  build  a  school  in  the  pueblo;  the 
school  is  my  offering."  And  the  young  fellow  ran  back  to 
his  game  of  chess. 

After  making  this  present  to  his  fiancee,  Ibarra  was  so 
happy  that  he  played  without  reflection,  and,  thanks  to  his 
many  false  moves,  the  captain  re-established  himself,  and 
the  game  was  a  draw.  The  two  men  shook  hands  with 
effusion. 

While  they  were  thus  making  an  end  of  the  long  and 
tedious  suit,  the  sudden  appearance  of  a  sergeant  and  four 
armed  guards,  bayonets  fixed,  broke  rudely  in  upon  the 
merry-makers. 

"  Whoever  stirs  is  a  dead  man !  "  cried  the  sergeant. 

In  spite  of  this  bluster,  Ibarra  went  up  to  him  and  asked 
what  he  wanted. 

"We  want  a  criminal  named  Elias,  who  was  your  helms- 
man this  morning,"  replied  the  officer,  still  threatening. 

"  A  criminal  ?     The  helmsman  ?     You  must  be  mistaken." 

"  No,  senor,  this  Elias  is  accused  of  having  raised  his 
hand  against  a  priest.  You  admit  questionable  people  to 
your  fetes." 

Ibarra  looked  him  over  from  head  to  foot  and  replied 
with  great  coldness. 

"  I  am  in  no  way  accountable  to  you  for  my  actions. 
Every  one  is  welcome  at  my  fetes."     And  he  turned  away. 

The  sergeant,  finding  he  was  making  no  headway,  ordered 
his  men  to  search  on  all  sides.  They  had  the  helmsman's 
description  on  paper. 

"Notice  that  this  description  answers  well  for  nine-tenths 


jS  An  Eagle  Flight 

of  the  natives,"  said  Don  Filipo ;  "  see  that  you  make  no 
mistakes !  " 

Quiet  came  back  little  by  little.  There  were  no  end,of 
questions. 

"So  this  is  the  Elias  who  threw  the  alf^rez  into  the 
swamp,"  said  Leon. 

"  He's  a  tulisane  then?  "  asked  Victoria,  trembling. 

"  I  think  not,  for  I  know  that  he  once  fought  against  the 
tulisanes." 

'*  He  hasn't  the  face  of  a  criminal,"  said  Sinang. 

"No;  but  his  face  is  very  sad,"  said  Maria.  "I  did  not 
see  him  smile  all  the  morning." 

The  day  was  ending,  and  in  the  last  rays  of  the  setting 
sun  everybody  left  the  wood,  passing  in  silence  the  tomb 
of  Ibarra's  ancestor.  Farther  on  conversation  again  be- 
came animated,  gay,  full  of  warmth,  under  these  branches 
little  used  to  merry-making.  But  the  trees  appeared  sad, 
and  the  swaying  bindweed  seemed  to  say :  "  Adieu,  youth ! 
Adieu,  dream  of  a  day ! " 


XXI. 

WITH    THE    PHILOSOPHER. 

The  next  morning,  Juan  Crisostomo  Ibarra,  after  visiting 
his  land,  turned  his  horse  toward  old  Tasio's. 

Complete  quiet  reigned  in  the  old  man's  garden ;  scarcely 
did  the  swallows  make  a  sound  as  they  flew  round  the  roof. 
The  old  walls  of  the  house  were  mossy,  and  ivy  framed  the 
windows.     It  seemed  the  abode  of  silence. 

Ibarra  tied  his  horse,  crossed  the  neat  garden,  almost  on 
tiptoe,  and  entered  the  open  door.  He  found  the  old  man 
in  his  study,  surrounded  by  his  collections  of  insects  and 
leaves,  his  maps,  manuscript,  and  books.  He  was  writing, 
and  so  absorbed  in  his  work  that  he  did  not  notice  the  en- 
trance of  Ibarra  until  the  young  man,  loath  to  disturb  him, 
was  leaving  as  quietly  as  he  had  come. 

"  What !  you  were  there  ?  "  he  cried,  looking  at  Crisostomo 
with  a  certain  astonishment. 

"Don't  disturb  yourself;  I  see  you  are  busy " 

"  I  was  writing  a  little,  but  it  is  not  at  all  pressing.  Can 
I  be  of  service  to  you  ?  " 

"Of  great  service,"  said  Ibarra,  approaching;  "but — you 
are  deciphering  hieroglyphics !  "  he  exclaimed  in  surprise, 
catching  sight  of  the  old  man's  work. 

"  No,  I'm  writing  in  hieroglyphics." 

"Writing  in  hieroglyphics?  And  why?"  demanded  the 
young  man,  doubting  his  senses. 

"  So  that  no  one  can  read  me." 

Ibarra  looked  at  him  attentively,  wondering  if  he  were 
not  a  little  mad  after  all. 


8o  An  Eagle  Flight 

"And  why  do  you  write  if  you  do  not  wish  to  be 
read?" 

"  I  write  not  for  this  generation,  but  for  future  ages.  If 
the  men  of  to-day  could  read  my  books,  they  would  burn 
them ;  the  generation  that  deciphers  these  characters  will 
understand,  and  will  say:  '  Our  ancestors  did  not  all  sleep.' 
But  you  have  something  to  ask  of  me,  and  we  are  talking 
of  other  things." 

Ibarra  drew  out  some  papers. 

"  I  know,"  he  said,  "  that  my  father  greatly  valued  your 
advice,  and  I  have  come  to  ask  it  for  myself." 

And  he  briefly  explained  his  project  for  the  school,  un- 
rolling before  the  stupefied  philosopher  plans  sent  from 
Manila.  "  Whom  shall  I  consult  first,  in  the  pueblo,  whose 
support  will  avail  me  most?  You  know  them  all,  I  am  al- 
most a  stranger," 

Old  Tasio  examined  with  tearful  eyes  the  drawings  before 
him. 

"  You  are  going  to  realize  my  dream,"  he  said,  greatly 
moved;  "the  dream  of  a  poor  fool.  And  now  the  first  ad- 
vice I  give  you  is  never  to  ask  advice  of  me." 

Ibarra  looked  at  him  in  surprise. 

"Because,  if  you  do,"  he  continued  with  bitter  irony, 
"  all  sensible  people  will  take  you  for  a  fool,  too.  For  all 
sensible  people  think  those  who  differ  with  them  fools; 
they  think  me  one,  and  I  am  grateful  for  it,  because  the  day 
they  see  in  me  a  reasonable  being  woe  is  me!  That  day  I 
shall  lose  the  little  liberty  I  now  enjoy  at  the  expense  of 
my  reputation.  The  gobernadorcillo  passes  with  them  for 
a  wise  man  because  having  learned  nothing  but  to  serve 
chocolate  and  to  suffer  the  caprices  of  Brother  Damaso,  he 
is  now  rich  and  has  the  right  to  trouble  the  life  of  his  fel- 
low-citizens. 'There  is  a  man  of  talent! '  says  the  crowd. 
*  He  has  sprung  from  nothing  to  greatness.'     But  perhaps 


With  the  Philosopher  8i 

I  am  really  the  fool  and  they  are  the  wise  men.  Who  can 
say?" 

And  the  old  man  shook  his  head  as  though  to  dismiss  an 
unwelcome  thought. 

"  The  second  thing  I  advise  is  to  consult  the  curate,  the 
gobernadorcillo,  all  the  people  of  position  in  the  pueblo. 
They  will  give  you  bad  advice,  unintelligible,  useless.  But 
to  ask  advice  is  not  to  follow  it.  All  you  need  is  to  make 
it  understood  that  you  are  working  in  accordance  with  their 
ideas." 

Ibarra  reflected,  then  replied: 

"  No  doubt  your  counsel  is  good,  but  it  is  very  hard  to 
take.  May  I  not  offer  my  own  ideas  to  the  light  of  day? 
Cannot  the  good  make  its  way  anywhere?  Has  truth  need 
of  the  dross  of  error  ?  " 

"No  one  likes  the  naked  truth,"  replied  the  old  man. 
"  It  is  good  in  theory,  easy  in  the  ideal  world  of  which 
youth  dreams.  You  say  you  are  a  stranger  to  your  country ; 
I  believe  it.  The  day  that  you  arrived  here,  you  began  by 
wounding  the  self-esteem  of  a  priest.  God  grant  this  seem- 
ingly small  thing  has  not  decided  your  future.  If  it  has, 
all  your  efforts  will  break  against  the  convent  walls,  with- 
out disturbing  the  monk,  swaying  his  girdle,  or  making  his 
robe  tremble.  The  alcalde,  under  one  pretext  or  another, 
will  deny  you  to-morrow  what  he  grants  you  to-day;  not  a 
mother  will  let  her  child  go  to  your  school,  and  the  result 
of  all  your  efforts  will  be  simply  negative." 

"I  cannot  help  feeling  your  fears  exaggerated,"  said 
Ibarra.  "  In  spite  of  all  you  say,  I  cannot  believe  in  this 
power;  but  even  admitting  it  to  be  so  great,  the  most  intel- 
ligent of  the  people  would  be  on  my  side,  and  also  the 
Government,  which  is  animated  by  the  best  intentions,  and 
wishes  the  veritable  good  of  the  Philippines." 

"The  Government!   the  Government!"    murmiu-ed   the 


82  An  Eagle  Flight 

philosopher,  raising  his  eyes.  "However  great  its  desire 
to  better  the  country,  however  generous  may  have  been  the 
spirit  of  the  Catholic  kings,  the  Government  sees,  hears, 
judges  nothing  more  than  the  curate  or  the  provincial  gives 
it  to  see,  hear,  or  judge.  The  Government  is  convinced  that 
its  tranquillity  comes  through  the  monks;  that  if  it  is  up- 
held, it  is  because  they  uphold  it;  that  if  it  live,  is  it  be- 
cause they  consent  to  let  it,  and  that  the  day  when  they  fail 
it,  it  will  fall  like  a  manikin  that  has  lost  its  base.  The 
monks  hold  the  Government  in  hand  by  threatening  a  revolt 
of  the  people  they  control;  the  people,  by  displaying  the 
power  of  the  Government.  So  long  as  the  Government  has 
not  an  understanding  with  the  country,  it  will  not  free  itself 
from  this  tutelage.  The  Government  looks  to  no  vigorous 
future ;  it's  an  arm,  the  head  is  the  convent.  Through  its 
inertia,  it  allows  itself  to  be  dragged  from  abyss  to  abyss ; 
its  existence  is  no  more  than  a  shadow.  Compare  our 
system  of  government  with  the  systems  of  countries  you 
have  visited " 

"  Oh !  "  interrupted  Ibarra,  "  that  is  going  far.  Let  us  be 
satisfied  that,  thanks  to  religion  and  the  humanity  of  our 
rulers,  our  people  do  not  complain,  do  not  suffer  like  those 
of  other  countries." 

"The  people  do  not  complain  because  they  have  no 
voice ;  if  they  don't  revolt,  it  is  because  they  are  lethargic ; 
if  you  say  they  do  not  suffer,  it  is  because  you  have  not  seen 
their  heart's  blood.  But  the  day  will  come  when  you  will 
see  and  hear.  Then  woe  to  those  who  base  their  strength 
on  ignorance  and  fanaticism;  woe  to  those  who  govern 
through  falsehood,  and  work  in  the  night,  thinking  that  all 
sleep!  When  the  sun's  light  shows  the  sham  of  all  these 
phantoms,  there  will  be  a  frightful  reaction ;  all  this  strength 
conserved  for  centuries,  all  this  poison  distilled  drop  by 
drop,  all  these  sighs  strangled,  will  find  the  light  and  the 


With  the  Philosopher  83 

air.  Who  pay  these  accounts  which  the  people  from  time 
to  time  present,  and  which  History  preserves  for  us  in  its 
bloody  pages  ? " 

"God  will  never  permit  such  a  day  to  come!"  replied 
Ibarra,  impressed  in  spite  of  himself.  "The  Filipinos  are 
religious,  and  they  love  Spain.  There  are  abuses,  yes,  but 
Spain  is  preparing  reforms  to  correct  them;  her  projects 
are  now  ripening." 

"  I  know ;  but  the  reforms  which  come  from  the  head  are 
annulled  lower  down,  thanks  to  the  greedy  desire  of  officials 
to  enrich  themselves  in  a  short  time,  and  to  the  ignorance 
of  the  people,  who  accept  everything.  Abuses  are  not  to  be 
corrected  by  royal  decrees,  not  where  the  liberty  of  speech, 
which  permits  the  denunciation  of  petty  tyrants,  does  not 
exist.  Projects  remain  projects;  abuses,  abuses.  More- 
over, if  by  chance  some  one  coming  to  occupy  an  office  be- 
gins to  show  high  and  generous  ideas,  immediately  he  hears 
on  all  sides — while  to  his  back  he  is  held  a  fool:  *  Your 
Excellency  does  not  know  the  country,  Your  Excellency  does 
not  know  the  character  of  the  Indians,  Your  Excellency  will 
ruin  them,  Your  Excellency  will  do  well  to  consult  this  one 
and  that  one,'  and  so  forth,  and  so  on.  And  as  in  truth  His 
Excellency  does  not  know  the  country,  which  hitherto  he 
had  supposed  to  be  in  America,  and  since,  like  all  men,  he 
has  his  faults  and  weaknesses,  he  allows  himself  to  be  con- 
vinced. Don't  ask  for  miracles;  don't  ask  that  he  who 
comes  here  a  stranger  to  make  his  fortune  should  interest 
himself  in  the  welfare  of  the  country.  What  does  it  mean 
to  him,  the  gratitude  or  the  execration  of  a  people  he  does 
not  know,  among  whom  he  has  neither  attachments  nor 
hopes?  To  make  glory  sweet  to  us,  its  plaudits  must  re- 
sound in  the  ears  of  those  we  love,  in  the  atmosphere  of 
our  home,  of  the  country  that  is  to  preserve  our  ashes;  we 
wish  this  glory  seated  on  our  tomb,  to  warm  a  little  with 
7 


84  An  Eagle  Flight 

its  rays  the  cold  of  death,  to  keep  us  from  being  reduced  to 
nothingness  quite.     But  we  wander  from  the  question." 

"It  is  true  I  did  not  come  to  argue  this  point;  I  came  to 
ask  advice,  and  you  tell  me  to  bow  before  grotesque  idols." 

"Yes,  and  I  repeat  it;  you  must  either  lower  your  head 
or  lose  it." 

*'  •  Lower  my  head  or  lose  it ! ' "  repeated  Ibarra,  thought- 
ful, "The  dilemma  is  hard.  Is  it  impossible  to  reconcile 
love  of  my  country  and  love  of  Spain  ?  Must  one  abase 
himself  to  be  a  good  Christian;  prostitute  his  conscience  to 
achieve  a  good  work?  I  love  my  country;  I  love  Spain;  I 
am  a  Catholic,  and  keep  pure  the  faith  of  my  fathers;  but  I 
see  in  all  this  no  reason  for  delivering  myself  into  the  hands 
of  my  enemies." 

"  But  the  field  where  you  would  sow  is  in  the  keeping 
of  your  enemies.  You  must  begin  by  kissing  the  hand 
which " 

Ibarra  did  not  let  him  finish. 

"Kiss  their  hands!  You  forget  that  among  them  are 
those  who  killed  my  father  and  tore  hisbody  from  the  grave; 
but  I,  his  son,  do  not  forget,  and  if  I  do  not  avenge,  it  is 
because  of  my  allegiance  to  religion!  " 

The  old  philosopher  lowered  his  eyes. 

"  Senor  Ibarra,"  he  said  slowly,  "  if  you  are  going  to  keep 
the  remembrance  of  these  things,  things  I  cannot  counsel 
you  to  forget,  abandon  this  enterprise  and  find  some  other 
means  of  benefiting  your  compatriots.  This  work  demands 
another  man." 

Ibarra  saw  the  force  of  these  words,  but  he  could  not  give 
up  his  project.  The  remembrance  of  Maria  Clara  was  in 
his  heart;  he  must  make  good  his  offering  to  her. 

"  If  I  go  on,  does  your  experience  suggest  nothing  but  this 
hard  road?  "  he  asked  in  a  low  voice. 

Old  Tasio  took  his  arm  and  led  him  to  the  window.    A 


With  the  Philosopher  85 

fresh  breeze  was  blowing,  courier  of  the  north  wind.  Below 
bty  the  garden. 
\  /  "Why  must  we  do  as  does  that  slender  stalk,  charged 
V  with  buds  and  blossoms?"  said  the  philosopher,  pointing 
out  a  superb  rose-tree.  "  The  wind  makes  it  tremble,  and 
it  bends,  as  if  to  hide  its  precious  charge.  If  the  stalk 
stood  rigid,  it  would  break,  the  wind  would  scatter  the  flow- 
ers, and  the  buds  would  die  without  opening.  The  gust  of 
wind  passed,  the  stalk  rises  again,  proudly  wearing  her  treas- 
ure. Who  accuses  her  for  having  bowed  to  necessity?  To 
lower  the  head  when  a  ball  whistles  is  not  cowardice.  What 
is  reprehensible  is  defying  the  shot,  to  fall  and  rise  no 
more." 

"And  will  this  sacrifice  bear  the  fruit  I  seek?  Will  they 
have  faith  in  me?  Can  the  priest  forget  his  own  offence? 
Will  they  sincerely  aid  me  to  spread  that  instruction  which 
is  sure  to  dispute  with  the  convents  the  wealth  of  the  coun- 
try? Might  they  not  feign  friendship,  simulate  protection, 
and,  underneath,  wound  my  enterprise  in  the  heel,  that  it 
fall  more  promptly  than  if  attacked  face  to  face?  Admit- 
ting your  views,  one  might  expect  anything." 

The  old  man  reflected,  then  he  said : 

"  If  this  happens,  if  the  enterprise  fails,  you  will  have 
the  consolation  of  having  done  what  you  could.  Something 
will  have  been  gained.  Your  example  will  embolden  others, 
who  fear  only  to  commence." 

Ibarra  weighed  these  reasonings,  examined  the  situation, 
and  saw  that  with  all  his  pessimism  the  old  man  was  right. 

"  I  believe  you,"  he  said,  grasping  his  hand.  "  It  was 
not  in  vain  that  I  came  to  you  for  counsel.  I  will  go  straight 
to  the  curate,  who,  after  all,  may  be  a  fair-minded  man. 
They  are  not  all  like  the  persecutor  of  my  father.  I  go 
with  faith  in  God  and  man." 

He  took  leave  of  Tasio,  mounted,  and  rode  away,  followed 


86  An  Eagle  Flight   . 

by  the  regard  of  the  pessimistic  old  philosopher,  who  stood 
muttering  to  himself : 

"  We  shall  see,  we  shall  see  how  the  fates  unroll  the  drama 
begun  in  the  cemetery !  " 

This  time  the  wise  Tasio  was  wrong;  the  drama  had  be- 
gun long  before. 


XXII. 

THE   MEETING   AT   THE   TOWN   HALL. 

It  was  a  room  of  twelve  or  fifteen  by  eight  or  ten  yards. 
The  whitewashed  walls  were  covered  with  charcoal  draw- 
ings, more  or  less  ugly,  more  or  less  decent.  In  the  corner 
were  a  dozen  old  shot-guns  and  some  rusty  swords,  the  arms 
of  the  cuadrilleros. 

At  one  end,  draped  with  soiled  red  curtains,  was  a  por- 
trait of  His  Majesty  the  King,  and  on  the  platform  under- 
neath an  old  fauteuil  opened  its  worn  arms ;  before  this  was 
a  great  table,  daubed  with  ink,  carved  and  cut  with  inscrip- 
tions and  monograms,  like  the  tables  of  a  German  students' 
inn.  Lame  chairs  and  tottering  benches  completed  the  fur- 
niture. 

In  this  hall  meetings  were  held,  courts  sat,  tortures  were 
inflicted.  At  the  moment  the  authorities  of  the  pueblo  and 
its  vicinity  were  met  there.  The  party  of  the  old  did  not 
mingle  with  the  party  of  the  young;  the  two  represented  the 
Conservatives  and  Liberals. 

"  My  friends,"  Don  Filipo,  the  chief  of  the  Liberals,  was 
saying  to  a  little  group,  "  we  shall  vanquish  the  old  men  this 
time;  I'm  going  to  present  their  plan  myself,  with  exaggera- 
tions, you  may  imagine." 

"What  are  you  saying?"  demanded  his  surprised  audi- 
tors. 

"Listen,"  said  Don  Filipo.  "This  morning  I  ran  across 
old  Tasio.  He  said  to  me :  *  Your  enemies  are  more  opposed 
to  your  person  than  to  your  ideas.     Is  there  something  you 


88  An  Eagle  Flight 

don't  want  to  have  go  through  ?  Propose  it  yourself.  If  it's 
as  desirable  as  a  mitre,  they  will  reject  it.  Then  let  the 
most  modest  young  fellow  among  you  present  what  you 
really  want.  To  humiliate  you,  your  enemies  will  help  to 
carry  it'     Hush!     Keep  the  secret." 

The  gobernadorcillo  had  come  in.  Conversation  ceased, 
all  took  places,  and  silence  reigned. 

The  captain,  as  the  gobernadorcillo  is  called,  sat  down  in 
the  chair  under  the  king's  portrait.  His  look  was  harried. 
He  coughed,  passed  his  hand  over  his  cranium,  coughed 
again,  and  at  length  began  in  a  failing  voice : 

"Senores,  I've  taken  the  risk  of  convening  you  all — hem, 
hem! — because  we  are  to  celebrate,  the  twelfth  of  this 
month,  the  feast  of  our  patron,  San  Diego — hem,  hem!  " 

At  this  point  of  his  discourse  a  cough,  dry  and  regular, 
reduced  him  to  silence. 

Then  from  among  the  elders  arose  Captain  Basilio: 

"Will  your  honors  permit  me,"  said  he,  "to  speak  a  word 
under  these  interesting  circumstances?  I  speak  first,  though 
many  of  those  present  have  more  right  than  I,  but  the  things 
I  have  to  say  are  of  such  importance  that  they  should  neither 
be  left  aside  nor  said  last,  and  for  that  reason  I  wish  to 
speak  first,  to  give  them  the  place  they  merit.  Your  honors 
will,  then,  permit  me  to  speak  first  in  this  assembly,  where  I 
see  very  distinguished  people,  like  the  senor,  the  present  go- 
bernadorcillo; his  predecessor,  my  distinguished  friend,  Don 
Valentine;  his  other  predecessor,  Don  Julio;  our  renowned 
captain  of  the  cuadrilleros,  Don  Melchior,  and  so  many 
others,  whom,  for  brevity,  I  will  not  mention,  and  whom  you 
see  here  present.  I  entreat  your  honors  to  give  me  the  floor 
before  any  one  else  speaks.  Am  I  happy  enough  to  have  the 
assembly  accede  to  my  humble  request?  "  And  the  speaker 
bowed  respectfully,  half  smiling. 

"  You  may  speak,  we  shall  hear  you  with  pleasure!  "  cried 


The  Meeting  at  the  Town  Hall       89 

his  flattering  friends,  who  held  him  a  great  orator.  The  old 
men  hemmed  with  satisfaction  and  rubbed  their  hands. 

Captain  Basil  io  wiped  the  sweat  from  his  brow  and  con- 
tinued : 

"  Since  your  honors  have  been  so  kind  and  complaisant 
toward  my  humble  self  as  to  grant  me  the  right  of  speech 
before  all  others  here  present,  I  shall  profit  by  this  permis- 
sion, so  generously  accorded,  and  I  shall  speak.  I  imagine 
in  my  imagination  that  I  find  myself  in  the  midst  of  the  very 
venerable  Roman  senate — senatus  populusque  Romanus,  as 
we  said  in  those  good  old  times  which,  unhappily  for  human- 
ity, will  never  come  back, — and  I  will  ask  the  patres  con- 
scripti — as  the  sage  Cicero  would  say  if  he  were  in  my  place 
— I  would  ask  them,  since  time  presses,  and  time  is  golden 
as  Solomon  says,  that  in  this  important  matter  each  one  give 
his  opinion  clearly,  briefly,  and  simply.     I  have  done." 

And  satisfied  with  himself  and  with  the  attention  of  the 
house  the  orator  sat  down,  not  without  directing  toward  his 
friends  a  look  which  plainly  said :  "  Ha !  Did  I  speak  well  ? 
Ha!" 

"  Now  the  floor  belongs  to  any  one  who — hem !  "  said  the 
gobernadorcillo,  without  being  able  to  finish  his  sen- 
tence. 

To  judge  by  the  general  silence,  no  one  wished  to  be  one 
of  the  patres  conscripti.  Don  Filipo  profited  thereby  and 
rose. 

The  Conservatives  looked  at  one  another  with  significant 
nods  and  gestures. 

"  Senores,  I  will  present  my  project  for  the  fete,"  he  be- 
gan. 

"We  cannot  accept  it!"  said  an  uncompromising  Con- 
servative. 

"  We  vote  against  it !  "  cried  another  adversary. 

Don  Filipo  could  not  repress  a  smile. 


90  An  Eagle  Flight 

"We  have  a  budget  of  3,500  pesos.  With  this  sum  we 
can  assure  a  fete  that  will  surpass  any  we  have  yet  seen  in 
our  own  province  or  in  others." 

There  were  cries  of  "  Impossible!  "  Such  a  pueblo  spent 
4,000  pesos;  another,  5,000! 

"  Listen,  senores,  and  you  will  be  convinced,"  continued 
Don  Filipo,  unshaken.  "  I  propose  that  in  the  middle  of 
the  plaza  we  erect  a  grand  theatre,  costing  150  pesos." 

"Not  enough!     Say  160!" 

"  Observe,  gentlemen,  200  pesos  for  the  theatre.  I  pro- 
pose that  arrangements  be  made  with  the  Comedy  Company 
of  Tondo  for  seven  representations,  seven  consecutive  even- 
ings, at  200  pesos  an  evening.  Seven  representations,  at 
200  pesos  each,  makes  1,400  pesos.  Observe,  senor  director, 
1,400  pesos." 

Old  and  young  looked  at  one  another  in  surprise.  Only 
those  in  the  secret  remained  unmoved. 

"  I  further  propose  magnificent  fireworks;  not  those  little 
rockets  and  crackers  that  amuse  nobody  but  children  and 
old  maids,  but  great  bombs,  colossal  rockets.  I  propose, 
then,  200  bombs  at  two  pesos  each,  and  200  rockets  at  the 
same  price.  Observe,  senores,  1,000  pesos  for  bombs 
and » 

The  Conservatives  could  not  contain  themselves.  They 
got  up  and  conferred  with  one  another. 

"  And  further,  to  show  our  neighbors  that  we  are  not  peo- 
ple who  must  count  their  expenditures,  I  propose,  first,  four 
great  preachers  for  the  two  feast  days ;  second,  that  each 
day  we  throw  into  the  lake  200  roasted  fowls,  100  stuffed 
capons,  and  50  sucking  pigs,  as  did  Sylla,  contemporary  of 
Cicero,  to  whom  Captain  Basilic  alluded." 

"That's  it!  Like  Sylla!  "  repeated  Captain  Basilio,  flat- 
tered. 

The  astonishment  grew. 


The  Meeting  at  the  Town  Hall       91 

"  As  many  rich  people  will  come  to  the  fetes,  each  bring- 
ing thousands  of  pesos  and  his  best  cocks,  I  propose  fifteen 
days  of  the  gallera,  the  liberty  of  open  gaming  houses " 

Cries  rising  from  all  sides  drowned  his  voice;  there  was 
a  veritable  tumult.  The  gobernadorcillo,  more  crushed  than 
ever,  did  nothing  to  quell  it;  he  waited  for  order  to  estab- 
lish itself. 

Happily  Captain  Valentine,  most  moderate  of  the  Con- 
servatives, rose  and  said: 

"  What  the  lieutenant  proposes  seems  to  us  extravagant. 
So  many  bombs  and  so  much  comedy  could  only  be  proposed 
by  a  young  man,  like  the  lieutenant,  who  could  pass  all  his 
evenings  at  the  theatre  and  hear  countless  detonations  with- 
out becoming  deaf.  And  what  of  these  fowls  thrown  into 
the  lake?  Why  should  we  imitate  Sylla  and  the  Romans? 
Did  they  ever  invite  us  to  their  fetes?  I'm  an  old  man,  and 
I've  never  received  any  summons  from  them !  " 

"  The  Romans  live  at  Rome  with  the  Pope,"  Captain  Ba- 
silic whispered. 

This  did  not  disconcert  Don  Valentine. 

"  At  all  events,"  he  went  on,  "  the  project  is  inadmissible, 
impossible;  it's  a  folly!  " 

Don  Filipo  must  needs  retire  his  project. 

Satisfied  with  the  defeat  of  their  enemy,  the  Conserva- 
tives were  not  displeased  to  see  another  young  man  rise,  the 
municipal  head  of  a  group  of  fifty  or  sixty  families,  known 
as  a  balangay. 

He  modestly  excused  himself  for  speaking.  With  deli- 
cate blandishments  he  referred  to  the  "  ideas  so  elegantly 
expressed  by  Captain  Basilio,"  upon  which  the  delighted 
captain  made  signs  to  show  him  how  to  gesture  and  to 
change  position:  then  he  unfolded  his  project:  to  have 
something  absolutely  new,  and  to  spend  the  3,500  pesos  in 
such  a  way  as  to  benefit  their  own  province. 


92  An  Eagle  Flight 

"  That's  it !  "  interrupted  the  young  men ;  "  that's  what  we 
want!" 

What  did  they  care  about  seeing  the  King  of  Bohemia 
cut  off  the  heads  of  his  daughters!  They  were  neither 
kings  nor  barbarians,  and  if  they  did  such  things  them- 
selves, would  be  hung  high  on  the  field  of  Bagumbayan. 
He  proposed  that  two  native  plays  be  given  which  dealt 
with  the  manners  of  the  times.  There  were  two  he  had  in 
mind,  works  of  their  best  writers.  They  demanded  only 
native  costumes,  and  could  be  played  by  amateurs  of  talent, 
of  whom  the  province  had  no  lack. 

"  A  good  idea !  "  some  of  the  Conservatives  began  to  mur- 
mur. 

"I'll  pay  for  the  theatre!"  cried  Captain  Basilio,  with 
enthusiasm. 

"  Accepted !  Accepted !  "  cried  numerous  voices.  The 
young  man  went  on : 

"  A  part  of  the  money  taken  at  the  theatre  might  be  dis- 
tributed in  prizes :  to  the  best  pupil  in  the  school,  the  best 
shepherd,  the  best  fisherman.  We  might  have  boat  races, 
and  games,  and  fireworks,  of  course." 

Almost  all  were  agreed,  though  some  talked  about  "  inno- 
vations." 

When  silence  was  established,  only  the  decision  of  the 
gobernadorcillo  was  wanting. 

The  poor  man  passed  his  hand  across  his  forehead,  he  fid- 
geted, he  perspired;  finally  he  stammered,  lowering  his 
eyes: 

"  I  also ;  I  approve ;  but,  hem  1 " 

The  assembly  listened  in  silence. 

"But "  demanded  Captain  Basilio. 

"I  approve  entirely,"  repeated  the  functionary,  "that  is 
to  say,  I  do  not  approve ;  I  say  yes,  but " 

He  rubbed  his  eyes  with  the  back  of  his  hand. 


The  Meeting  at  the  Town  Hall       93 

"  But,"  continued  the  unhappy  man,  coming  to  the  point 
at  last,  "the  curate  wants  something  else." 

"  Is  the  curate  to  pay  for  the  festival  ?  Has  he  given 
even  a  cuarto?  "  cried  a  penetrating  voice. 

Every  one  turned.  It  was  Tasio.  The  lieutenant  re- 
mained immovable,  his  eyes  on  the  gobernadorcillo. 

"  And  what  does  the  curate  want?  "  demanded  Don  Basil io. 

"  The  curate  wants  six  processions,  three  sermons,  three 
solemn  masses,  and  if  any  money  is  left,  a  comedy  with 
songs  between  the  acts." 

"  But  we  don't  want  it !  "  cried  the  young  men  and  some 
of  their  elders. 

"The  curate  wishes  it,"  repeated  the  gobernadorcillo, 
"and  I've  promised  that  his  wishes  shall  be  carried  out." 

"Then  why  did  you  call  us  together?  "  asked  one,  impa- 
tient. 

" Why  didn't  you  say  so  in  the  beginning?"  demanded 
another. 

"  I  wished  to,  senores,  but,  Captain  Basilio,  I  did  not 
have  a  chance.     We  must  obey  the  curate !  " 

"We  must  obey!"  repeated  some  of  the  Conservatives. 

Don  Filipo  approached  the  gobernadorcillo  and  said  bit- 
terly : 

"  I  sacrified  my  pride  in  a  good  cause ;  you  sacrifice  your 
manliness  in  a  bad  one ;  you  spoil  every  good  thing  that 
might  be  done! " 

Ibarra  said  to  the  schoolmaster: 

"  Have  you  any  commission  for  the  capital  ?  I  leave  im- 
mediately." 

On  the  way  home  the  old  philosopher  said  to  Don  Filipo, 
who  was  cursing  his  fate: 

"  The  fault  is  ours.  You  didn't  protest  when  they  gave 
you  a  slave  for  mayor,  and  I,  fool  that  I  am,  forgot  about 
him  1 " 


XXIII. 

THE    EVE    OF    THE    FETE. 

It  is  the  loth  of  November,  the  eve  of  the  f6te.  The 
pueblo  of  San  Diego  is  stirred  by  an  incredible  activity;  in 
the  houses,  the  streets,  the  church,  the  gallera,  all  is  un- 
wonted movement.  From  windows  flags  and  rugs  are  hang- 
ing; the  air,  resounding  with  bombs  and  music,  seems  satu- 
rated with  gayety.  Inside  on  little  tables  covered  with 
bordered  cloths  the  dalaga  arranges  in  jars  of  tinted  crystal 
the  confitures  made  from  the  native  fruits.  Servants  come 
and  go;,  orders,  whispers,  comments,  conjectures  are  every- 
where. And  all  this  activity  and  labor  are  for  guests  as  often 
unknown  as  known;  the  stranger,  the  friend,  the  Filipino, 
the  Spaniard,  the  rich  man,  the  poor  man,  will  be  equally 
fortunate;  and  no  one  will  ask  his  gratitude,  nor  even  de- 
mand that  he  speak  well  of  his  host  till  the  end  of  his  din- 
ner. 

The  red  covers  which  all  the  year  protect  the  lamps  are 
taken  off,  and  the  swinging  prisms  and  crystal  pendants 
strike  out  harmonies  from  one  another  and  throw  dancing 
rainbow  colors  on  the  white  walls.  The  glass  globes,  pre- 
cious heirlooms,  are  rubbed  and  polished;  the  dainty  handi- 
work of  the  young  girls  of  the  house  is  brought  out.  Floors 
shine  like  mirrors,  curtains  of  pina  or  silk  jusi  ornament  the 
doors,  and  in  the  windows  hang  lanterns  of  crystal  or  of  col- 
ored paper.  The  vases  on  the  Chinese  pedestals  are  heaped 
with  flowers,  the  saints  themselves  in  their  reliquaries  are 
dusted  and  wreathed  with  blossoms. 


The  Eve  of  the  Fete  95 

At  intervals  along  the  streets  rise  graceful  arches  of  reed ; 
around  the  parvis  of  the  church  is  the  costly  covered  pas- 
sageway, supported  by  trunks  of  bamboos,  under  which  the 
procession  is  to  pass,  and  in  the  centre  of  the  plaza  rises 
the  platform  of  the  theatre,  with  its  stage  of  reed,  of  nipa, 
or  of  wood.  The  native  pyrotechnician,  who  learns  his  art 
from  no  one  knows  what  master,  is  getting  ready  his  castles, 
balloons,  and  fiery  wheels ;  all  the  bells  of  the  pueblo  are 
ringing  gaily.  There  are  sounds  of  music  in  the  distance, 
and  the  gamins  run  to  meet  the  bands  and  give  them  escort. 
In  comes  the  fanfare  with  spirited  marches,  followed  by  the 
ragged  and  half-naked  urchins,  who,  the  moment  a  number 
is  ended,  know  it  by  heart,  hum  it,  whistle  it  with  wonder- 
ful accuracy,  and  are  ready  to  pass  judgment  on  it. 

Meanwhile  the  people  of  the  mountains,  the  kasamk,  in 
gala  dress,  bring  down  to  the  rich  of  the  pueblo  wild  game 
and  fruits,  and  the  rarest  plants  of  the  woods,  the  biga,  with 
its  great  leaves,  and  the  tikas-tikas,  whose  flaming  flowers 
will  ornament  the  doorways  of  the  houses.  And  from  all 
sides,  in  all  sorts  of  vehicles,  arrive  the  guests,  known  and 
unknown,  many  bringing  with  them  their  best  cocks  and 
sacks  of  gold  to  risk  in  the  gallera,  or  on  the  green  cloth. 

"  The  alf^rez  has  fifty  pesos  a  night,"  a  little  plump  man 
is  murmuring  in  the  ears  of  his  guests.  "  Captain  Tiago 
will  hold  the  bank ;  Captain  Joaquin  brings  eighteen  thou- 
sand. There  will  be  liam-p6;  the  Chinese  Carlo  puts  up 
the  game,  with  a  capital  of  ten  thousand.  Sporting  men  are 
coming  from  Lipa  and  Batanzos  and  Santa  Cruz.  There 
will  be  big  play!  big  play! — but  will  you  take  chocolate? — 
Captain  Tiago  won't  fleece  us  this  year  as  he  did  last;  and 
how  is  your  family?  " 

"  Very  well,  very  well,  thank  you !     And  Father  Ddmaso  ?  " 

"  The  father  will  preach  in  the  morning  and  be  with  us 
at  the  games  in  the  evening." 


96  An  Eagle  Flight 

"  He's  out  of  danger  now  ?  " 

"Without  question!  Ah,  it's  the  Chinese  who  will  let 
their  hands  go!  "  And  in  dumb  show  the  little  man  coimted 
money  with  his  hands. 

But  the  greatest  animation  of  all  was  at  the  outskirts  of 
the  crowd,  around  a  sort  of  platform  a  few  paces  from  the 
home  of  Ibarra.  Pulleys  creaked,  cries  went  up,  one  heard 
the  metallic  ring  of  stone-cutting,  of  nail-driving;  a  band  of 
workmen  were  opening  a  long,  deep  trench ;  others  were  plac- 
ing in  line  great  stones  from  the  quarries  of  the  pueblo, 
emptying  carts,  dumping  sand,  placing  capstans. 

"This  way!  That's  it!  Quick  about  it!"  a  little  old 
man  of  intelligent  and  animated  face  was  crying.  It  was 
the  foreman,  Sefior  Juan,  architect,  mason,  carpenter,  metal- 
worker, stonecutter,  and  on  occasions  sculptor.  To  each 
stranger  he  repeated  what  he  had  already  said  a  thousand 
times. 

"Do  you  know  what  we  are  going  to  build?  A  model 
school,  like  those  of  Germany,  and  even  better.     The  plans 

were  traced  by  Senor  R .     I  direct  the  work.     Yes, 

senor,  you  see  it  is  to  be  a  palace  with  two  wings,  one  for 
the  boys,  the  other  for  the  girls.  Here  in  the  centre  will 
be  a  great  garden  with  three  fountains,  and  at  the  sides  lit- 
tle gardens  for  the  children  to  cultivate  plants.  That  great 
space  you  see  there  is  for  playgrounds.  It  will  be  magnifi- 
cent! "  And  the  Senor  Juan  rubbed  his  hands,  thinking  of 
his  fame  to  come.  Soothed  by  its  contemplation,  he  went 
back  and  forth,  passing  everything  in  review. 

"  That's  too  much  wood  for  a  crane,"  he  said  to  a  Mon- 
gol, who  was  directing  a  part  of  the  work.  "The  three 
beams  that  make  the  tripod  and  the  three  joining  them 
would  be  enough  for  me." 

"  But  not  for  me,"  replied  the  Mongol,  with  a  peculiar 
smile,  "  the  more  ornament,  the  more  imposing  the  effect. 


The  Eve  of  the  Fete  97 

You  will  see!  I  shall  trim  it,  too,  with  wreaths  and  stream- 
ers. You  will  say  in  the  end  that  you  were  right  to  give 
the  work  into  my  hands,  and  Senor  Ibarra  will  have  nothing 
left  to  desire." 

The  man  smiled  still,  and  Senor  Juan  laughed  and  threw 
back  his  head. 

In  truth,  Ibarra's  project  had  found  an  echo  almost  every- 
where. The  curate  had  asked  to  be  a  patron  and  to  bless 
the  cornerstone,  a  ceremony  that  was  to  take  place  the  last 
day  of  the  fete,  and  to  be  one  of  its  chief  solemnities.  One 
of  the  most  conservative  papers  of  Manila  had  dedicated  to 
Ibarra  on  its  first  page  an  article  entitled,  "  Imitate  Him !  " 
He  was  therein  called  "  the  young  and  rich  capitalist,  al- 
ready a  marked  man,"  "the  distinguished  philanthropist," 
"the  Spanish  Filipino,"  and  so  forth.  The  students  who 
had  come  from  Manila  for  the  fete  were  full  of  admiration 
for  Ibarra,  and  ready  to  take  him  for  their  model.  But,  as 
almost  always  when  we  try  to  imitate  a  man  who  towers 
above  the  crowd,  we  ape  his  weaknesses,  if  not  his  faults, 
many  of  these  admirers  of  Crisdstomo's  held  rigorously  to 
the  tie  of  his  cravat,  or  the  shape  of  his  collar;  almost  all 
to  the  number  of  buttons  on  his  vest.  Even  Captain  Tiago 
burned  with  generous  emulation,  and  asked  himself  if  he 
ought  not  to  build  a  convent. 

The  dark  presentiments  of  old  Tasio  seemed  dissipated. 
When  Ibarra  said  so  to  him,  the  old  pessimist  replied: 
"  Timeo  Danaos  et  dona  ferentes." 

Toward  evening  Captain  Tiago  arrived  from  Manila, 
bringing  Maria  Clara,  in  honor  of  the  fete,  a  beautiful  rel- 
iquary of  gold,  set  with  emeralds  and  diamonds,  enshrining 
a  splinter  from  the  fishing-boat  of  St.  Peter.  Scarcely  had 
he  come  when  a  party  of  Maria's  friends  came  to  take  her 
out  to  see  the  streets. 

"Go,"    said    Captain    Tiago,   "but    come    back    soon. 


98  An  Eagle  Flight 

Father  Damaso,  you  know,  is  to  dine  with  us.  You,  too, 
Crisdstomo,  must  join  us." 

"With  the  greatest  pleasure,"  stammered  Ibarra,  avoid- 
ing Maria  Clara's  eyes,  "  if  I  did  not  feel  that  I  must  be  at 
home  to  receive  whoever  may  come." 

"  Bring  your  friends  here ;  there  is  always  room  at  ray 
table,"  said  Captain  Tiago,  somewhat  coldly.  "I  wish 
Father  Damaso  and  you  to  come  to  an  understanding." 

"There  is  yet  time,"  said  Ibarra,  forcing  a  smile. 

As  they  descended  to  the  street,  Aunt  Isabel  following, 
people  moved  aside  to  let  them  pass.  Maria  Clara  was  a 
vision  of  loveliness:  her  pallor  had  disappeared,  and  if  her 
eyes  remained  pensive,  her  mouth  seemed  to  know  only 
smiles.  With  the  amiability  characteristic  of  happy  young 
womanhood  she  saluted  the  people  she  had  known  as  a  child, 
and  they  smiled  back  their  admiration.  In  these  few  days 
of  freedom  she  had  regained  the  frank  friendliness,  the  gra- 
cious speech,  which  seemed  to  have  slumbered  inside  the 
narrow  walls  of  her  convent.  She  felt  a  new,  intense  life 
within  her,  and  everything  without  seemed  good  and  beau- 
tiful. She  showed  her  love  for  Ibarra  with  that  maiden 
sweetness  which  comes  from  pure  thoughts  and  knows  no 
reason  for  false  blushes. 

At  regular  intervals  in  the  streets  were  kindled  great  clus- 
tered lights  with  bamboo  supports,  like  candelabra.  People 
were  beginning  to  illuminate  their  houses,  and  through  the 
open  windows  one  could  see  the  guests  moving  about  in  the 
radiance  among  the  flowers  to  the  music  of  harp,  piano,  or 
orchestra.  Outside,  in  gala  costume,  native  or  European, 
Chinese,  Spaniards,  and  Filipinos  were  moving  in  all  direc- 
tions, escaping  with  difficulty  the  crush  of  carriages  and 
calashes. 

When  the  party  reached  Captain  Basilio's  house,  Sinang 
saw  them,  and  ran  down  the  steps. 


The  Eve  of  the  Fete 


99 


"  Come  up  till  I'm  ready  to  go  out  with  you,"  she  said. 
"  I'm  weary  of  all  these  strangers  who  talk  of  nothing  but 
cocks  and  cards." 

The  house  was  full  of  people.  Many  came  up  to  greet 
Crisdstomo,  and  all  admired  Maria  Clara.  "  Beautiful  as 
the  Virgin ! "  the  old  dames  whispered,  chewing  their 
buyo. 

Here  they  must  take  chocolate.  As  they  were  leaving, 
Captain  Basilio  said  in  Ibarra's  ear: 

"Won't  you  join  us  this  evening?  Father  Damaso  is 
going  to  make  up  a  little  purse." 

Ibarra  smiled  and  answered  by  a  movement  of  the  head, 
which  might  have  meant  anything. 

Chatting  and  laughing,  the  merry  party  went  on  past  the 
brilliantly  illuminated  houses.  At  length  they  came  to  one 
fast  closed  and  dark.  It  was  the  home  of  the  alf ^rez.  Maria 
was  astonished. 

"  It's  that  old  sorceress.  The  Muse  of  the  Municipal 
Guard,  as  Tasio  calls  her,"  said  Sinang.  "  Her  house  is  in 
mourning  because  the  people  are  gay." 

At  a  corner  of  the  plaza,  where  a  blind  man  was  singing, 
an  uncommon  sight  offered  itself.  A  man  stood  there,  mis- 
erably dressed,  his  head  covered  by  a  great  salakot  of  palm 
leaves,  which  completely  hid  his  face,  though  from  its 
shadow  two  lights  gleamed  and  went  out  fitfully.  He  was 
tall,  and,  from  his  figure,  young.  He  pushed  forward  a 
basket,  and  after  speaking  some  unintelligible  words  drew 
back  and  stood  completely  isolated.  Women  passing  put 
fruit  and  rice  into  his  basket,  and  at  this  he  came  forward 
a  little,  speaking  what  seemed  to  be  his  thanks. 

Maria  Clara  felt  the  presence  of  some  great  suffering. 
"Who  is  it?  "  she  asked  Iday. 

"It's  a  leper.  He  lives  outside  the  pueblo,  near  the 
Chinese  cemetery;  every  one  fears  to  go  near  him.  If  you 
S 


loo  An  Eagle  Flight 

could  see  his  cabin !  The  wind,  the  rain,  and  the  sun  must 
visit  him  as  they  like." 

"  Poor  man !  "  murmured  Maria  Clara,  and  hardly  know- 
ing what  she  did,  she  went  up  and  put  into  the  basket  the 
reliquary  her  father  had  just  given  her. 

"  Maria !  "  exclaimed  her  friends. 

"  I  had  nothing  else,"  she  said,  forcing  back  the  tears. 

"What  will  he  do  with  the  reliquary?  He  can't  sell  it! 
Nobody  will  touch  it  now!  If  only  it  could  be  eaten!" 
said  Sinang. 

But  the  leper  went  to  the  basket,  took  the  glittering  thing 
in  his  hands,  fell  on  his  knees,  kissed  it,  and  bent  his  head 
to  the  ground,  uncovering  humbly.  Maria  Clara  turned  her 
face  to  hide  the  tears. 

As  the  leper  knelt,  a  woman  crept  up  and  knelt  beside 
him.  By  her  long,  loose  hair  and  emaciated  face  the  peo- 
ple recognized  Sisa.  The  leper,  feeling  her  touch,  sprang 
up  with  a  cry ;  but,  to  the  horror  of  the  crowd,  she  clung  to 
his  arm. 

"Pray!  Pray!"  said  she.  "It  is  the  Feast  of  the 
Dead!  These  lights  are  the  souls  of  men.  Pray  for  my 
sons ! " 

"  Separate  them !  Separate  them ! "  cried  the  crowd ;  but 
no  one  dared  do  it. 

"Do  you  see  the  light  in  the  tower?  That  is  my  son 
Basil io,  ringing  the  bells.  Do  you  see  that  other  in  the 
manse?  That  is  my  son  Crispin;  but  I  cannot  go  to  them, 
because  the  curate  is  ill,  and  his  money  is  lost.  I  carried 
the  curate  fruit  from  my  garden.  My  garden  was  full  of 
flowers,  and  I  had  two  sons,  I  had  a  garden,  I  tended 
my  flowers,  and  I  had  two  sons." 

And  leaving  the  leper  she  moved  away,  singing: 

"  I  had  a  garden  and  flowers.  I  had  two  sons,  a  garden 
and  flowers." 


The  Eve  of  the  Fete  loi 

"  What  have  you  done  for  that  poor  woman  ?  "  Maria  asked 
Ibarra. 

"Nothing  yet,"  he  replied,  somewhat  confused.  "But 
don't  be  troubled;  the  curate  has  promised  to  aid  me." 

As  they  spoke,  a  soldier  came  dragging  Sisa  back,  rather 
than  leading  her.     She  was  resisting. 

"  Where  are  you  taking  her  ?  What  has  she  done  ?  "  asked 
Ibarra. 

"  What  has  she  done  ?  Didn't  you  hear  the  noise  she 
made?  "  said  the  guardian  of  public  tranquillity. 

The  leper  took  up  his  basket  and  vanished.  Maria  Clara 
asked  to  go  home.  She  had  lost  all  her  gayety.  Her  sad- 
ness increased  when,  arrived  at  her  door,  her  fiance  refused 
to  go  in. 

"  It  must  be  so  to-night,"  he  said  as  he  bade  her  good-by, 

Maria,  mounting  the  steps,  thought  how  tiresome  were  fete 
days,  when  one  must  receive  so  many  strangers. 

The  next  evening  a  little  perfumed  note  came  to  Ibarra 
by  the  hand  of  Andeng,  Maria's  foster  sister. 

"  Crisdstomo,  for  a  whole  day  I  have  not  seen  you.  They 
tell  me  you  are  ill.  I  have  lighted  two  candles  and  prayed 
for  you.  I'm  so  tired  of  being  asked  to  play  and  dance.  I 
did  not  know  there  were  so  many  tiresome  people  in  the 
world.  If  Father  Damaso  had  not  tried  to  amuse  me  with 
stories,  I  should  have  left  them  all  and  gone  away  to  sleep. 
Write  me  how  you  are,  and  if  I  shall  send  papa  to  see  you. 
I  send  you  Andeng  now  to  make  your  tea;  she  will  do  it 
better  than  your  servants.  If  you  don't  come  to-morrow,  I 
shall  not  go  to  the  ceremony.  Maria  Clara." 


XXIV. 

IN   THE   CHURCH. 

The  orchestras  sounded  the  reveille  at  the  first  rays  of  the 
sun,  waking  with  joyous  airs  the  tired  inhabitants  of  the 
pueblo. 

It  was  the  last  day  of  the  fete — indeed,  the  fete  itself. 
Every  one  expected  much  more  than  on  the  eve,  when  the 
Brothers  of  the  Sacred  Rosary  had  had  their  sermon  and 
procession ;  for  the  Brothers  of  the  Third  Order  were  more 
numerous,  and  counted  on  humiliating  their  rivals.  The 
Chinese  candle  merchants  had  reaped  a  rich  harvest. 

Everybody  put  on  his  gala  dress;  all  the  jewels  came  out 
of  their  coffers;  the  fops  and  sporting  men  wore  rows  of 
diamond  buttons  on  their  shirt  fronts,  heavy  gold  chains, 
and  white  jipijapa  hats,  as  the  Indians  call  Panamas.  No 
one  but  old  Tasio  was  in  everyday  costume. 

"  You  seem  even  sadder  than  usual,"  the  lieutenant  said 
to  him.  "  Because  we  have  so  many  reasons  to  weep,  may 
we  not  laugh  once  in  a  while?  " 

"  Yes,  laugh,  but  not  play  the  fool !  It's  the  same  insane 
orgy  every  year,  the  same  waste  of  money  when  there's  so 
much  need  and  so  much  suffering!  But  I  see!  It's  the 
orgy,  the  bacchanal,  that  is  to  still  the  lamentations  of  the 
poor!" 

"You  know  I  share  your  opinion,"  said  Don  Filipo,  half 
serious,  half  laughing,  "  and  that  I  defended  it;  but  what 
can  I  do  against  the  gobernadorcillo  and  the  curate?  " 

"  Resign !  "  cries  the  irate  old  man,  leaving  him. 


In  the  Church 


103 


"  Resign ! "  muttered  Don  Filipo,  going  on  toward  the 
church.  "Resign?  Yes,  certainly,  if  my  post  were  an 
honor  and  not  a  charge." 

There  was  a  crowd  in  the  parvis,  and  men,  women,  and 
children  in  a  stream  were  coming  and  going  through  the 
narrow  doors  of  the  church.  The  smell  of  powder  mingled 
with  that  of  flowers  and  incense.  Rockets,  bombs,  and  ser- 
pents made  women  run  and  scream  and  delighted  the  chil- 
dren. An  orchestra  was  playing  before  the  convent ;  bands 
accompanied  dignitaries  on  their  way  to  the  church,  or 
paraded  the  streets  under  innumerable  floating  and  dipping 
flags.  Light  and  color  distracted  the  eye,  music  and  explo- 
sions the  ear. 

High  mass  was  about  to  be  celebrated.  Among  the  con- 
gregation were  to  be  the  chief  alcalde  of  the  province  and 
other  Spanish  notables;  and  last,  the  sermon  would  be 
given  by  Brother  Damaso,  who  had  the  greatest  renown  as 
a  preacher. 

The  church  was  crammed.  People  were  jostled,  crushed, 
trampled  on,  and  cried  out  at  each  encounter.  From  far 
they  stretched  their  arms  to  dip  their  fingers  in  the  holy 
water,  but  getting  nearer,  saw  its  color,  and  the  hands  re- 
tired. They  scarcely  breathed;  the  heat  and  atmosphere 
were  insupportable;  but  the  preacher  was  worth  the  endur- 
ance of  all  these  miseries;  besides,  his  sermon  was  to  cost 
the  pueblo  two  hundred  and  fifty  pesos.  Fans,  hats,  and 
handkerchiefs  agitated  the  air ;  children  cried,  and  gave  the 
sacristans  a  hard  enough  task  getting  them  out. 

Ibarra  was  in  a  corner.  Maria  Clara  knelt  near  the  high 
altar,  where  the  curate  had  reserved  a  place  for  her.  Cap- 
tain Tiago,  in  frock  coat,  sat  on  the  bench  of  authorities, 
and  the  children,  who  did  not  know  him,  taking  him  for  an- 
other gobernadorcillo,  dared  not  go  near  him. 

At  length  the  alcalde  arrived  with  his  suite.     He  came 


I04  An  Eagle  Flight 

from  the  sacristy,  and  sat  down  in  a  splendid  fauteuil,  be- 
neath which  was  spread  a  rich  carpet.  He  was  in  full  dress, 
and  wore  the  cordon  of  Charles  III.,  with  four  or  five  other 
decorations. 

"  Ha !  "  cried  a  countryman.     "  A  citizen  in  fancy  dress !  " 

"  Imbecile !  "  replied  his  neighbor.  "  It's  Prince  Vil- 
lardo  whom  we  saw  last  night  in  the  play! "  And  the  al- 
calde, in  the  character  of  giant-slayer,  rose  accordingly  in 
the  popular  estimation. 

Presently  those  seated  arose,  those  sleeping  awoke,  the 
mass  had  begun.  Brother  Salvi  celebrated,  attended  by  two 
Augustins.  At  length  came  the  long-looked-for  moment  of 
the  sermon.  The  three  priests  sat  down,  the  alcalde  and 
other  notables  followed  them,  the  music  ceased.  The  peo- 
ple made  themselves  as  comfortable  as  possible,  those  who 
had  no  benches  sitting  outright  on  the  pavement,  or  arrang- 
ing themselves  tailor  fashion. 

Preceded  by  two  sacristans  and  followed  by  another  monk, 
who  bore  a  great  book.  Father  Damaso  made  his  way  through 
the  crowd.  He  disappeared  a  moment  in  the  spiral  stair- 
case of  the  pulpit,  then  his  great  head  reappeared  and  his 
herculean  bust.  He  looked  over  his  audience,  and,  the  re- 
view terminated,  said  to  his  companion,  hidden  at  his  feet: 

"Attention,  brother!" 

The  monk  opened  his  book. 


XXV. 

THE  SERMON. 

The  first  part  of  the  sermon  was  to  be  in  Castilian,  the 
remainder  in  Tagalo.  Brother  Damaso  began  slowly  and 
in  ordinary  voice : 

"  Et  spiritum  tuum  bonum  dedisti  qui  docevet  eos,  ei  manna 
tuum  non  prohibuisti  ab  ore  eorum,  et  aquam  dedisti  eis  in  siti. 
Words  of  the  Lord  spoken  by  the  mouth  of  Esdras,  Book 
II.,  chapter  ix.,  verse  20. 

"Most  worshipful  senor  (to  the  alcalde),  very  reverend 
priests,  brothers  in  Christ!  " 

Here  an  impressive  pose  and  a  new  glance  round  the 
audience,  then,  his  eyes  on  the  alcalde,  the  father  majes- 
tically extended  his  right  hand  toward  the  altar,  slowly 
crossed  his  arms,  without  saying  a  word,  and,  passing  from 
this  calm  to  action,  threw  back  his  head,  pointed  toward  the 
main  entrance,  and,  impetuously  cutting  the  air  with  the 
edge  of  his  hand,  began  to  speak  in  a  voice  strong,  full,  and 
resonant. 

"  Brilliant  and  splendid  is  the  altar,  wide  the  door,  the  air 
is  the  vehicle  of  the  sacred  word  which  shall  spring  from 
my  lips.  Hear,  then,  with  the  ears  of  the  soul  and  the  heart, 
that  the  words  of  the  Lord  may  not  fall  on  a  stony  ground, 
but  that  they  may  grow  and  shoot  upward  in  the  field  of  our 
seraphic  father,  St.  Francis.  You,  sinners,  captives  of  those 
Moors  of  the  soul  who  infest  the  seas  of  the  eternal  life,  in 
the  doughty  ships  of  the  flesh  and  the  world ;  you  who  row  in 
the  galleys  of  Satan,  behold  with  reverent  compunction  him 


io6  An  Eagle  Flight 

who  redeems  souls  from  the  captivity  of  the  demon — the  in- 
trepid Gideon,  the  courageous  David,  the  victorious  Roland 
of  Christianity !  the  celestial  guard,  more  valiant  than  all 
the  civil  guards  of  past  and  future.  (The  alfdrez  frowned.) 
Yes,  Senor  Alfdrez,  more  valiant  and  more  powerful  than 
all!  This  conqueror,  who,  without  other  weapon  than  a 
wooden  cross,  vanquished  the  eternal  tulisanes  of  darkness, 
and  would  have  utterly  destroyed  them  were  spirits  not  im- 
mortal. This  marvel,  this  incredible  phenomenon,  is  the 
blessed  Diego  of  Alcala!  " 

The  "  rude  Indians,"  as  the  correspondents  say,  fished  out 
of  this  paragraph  only  the  words  civil  guard,  tulisane,  San 
Diego,  and  San  Francisco.  They  had  noticed  the  grimace 
of  the  alferez  and  the  militant  gesture  of  the  preacher,  and 
had  from  this  deduced  that  the  father  was  angry  with  the 
guard  for  not  pursuing  the  tulisanes,  and  that  San  Diego  and 
San  Francisco  had  taken  upon  themselves  to  do  it.  They 
were  enchanted,  not  doubting  that,  the  tulisanes  once  dis- 
persed, St.  Francis  would  also  destroy  the  municipal  guard. 
Their  attention,  therefore,  redoubled. 

The  monk  continued  so  long  his  eulogy  of  San  Diego  that 
his  auditors,  not  even  excepting  Captain  Tiago,  began  to 
yawn  a  little.  Then  he  reproached  them  with  living  like 
the  Protestants  and  heretics,  who  respect  not  the  ministers 
of  God ;  like  the  Chinese,  for  which  condemnation  be  upon 
them! 

"What is  he  telling  us,  the  Paid  Lamaso?  "  murmured  the 
Chinese  Carlos,  looking  angrily  at  the  preacher,  who  went 
on  improvising  a  series  of  apostrophes  and  imprecations. 

"You  will  die  in  impenitence,  race  of  heretics!  Your 
punishment  is  already  being  meted  out  to  you  in  jails  and 
prisons.  The  family  and  its  women  should  flee  you;  rulers 
should  destroy  you.  If  you  have  a  member  that  causeth  you 
to  offend,  cut  it  oflE  and  cast  it  into  the  fire!  " 


The  Sermon  107 

Brother  Damaso  was  nervous.  He  had  forgotten  his  ser- 
mon and  was  improvising.  Ibarra  became  restless;  he 
looked  about  in  search  of  some  comer,  but  the  church  was 
full.  Maria  Clara  no  longer  heard  the  sermon.  She  was  an- 
alyzing a  picture  of  the  souls  of  the  "  Blessed  in  Purgatory." 

In  the  improvisation  the  monk  who  played  the  part  of 
prompter  lost  his  place  and  skipped  some  paragraphs.  The 
text  returned  to  San  Diego,  and  with  a  long  series  of  excla- 
mations and  contrasts  the  father  brought  to  a  close  the  first 
part  of  his  sermon. 

The  second  part  was  entirely  improvised ;  not  that  Brother 
Damaso  knew  Tagalo  better  than  Castilian ;  but,  consider- 
ing the  natives  of  the  province  entirely  ignorant  of  rhetoric, 
he  did  not  mind  making  errors  before  them.  Yet  the  sec- 
ond part  of  his  discourse  had  for  certain  people  graver  con- 
sequences than  the  first. 

He  began  with  a  "  Mana  capatir  concristians,"  "  My  Chris- 
tian brothers,"  followed  by  an  avalanche  of  untranslatable 
phrases  about  the  soul,  sin,  and  the  patron  saint.  Then  he 
launched  a  new  series  of  maledictions  against  lack  of  re- 
spect and  growing  irreligion.  On  this  point  he  seemed  to 
be  inspired,  and  expressed  himself  with  force  and  clearness. 
He  spoke  of  sinners  who  die  in  prison  without  confession 
or  the  sacraments ;  of  accursed  families,  of  petty  students, 
and  of  toy  philosophers. 

Ibarra  listened  and  understood.  He  kept  a  calm  exterior, 
but  his  eyes  turned  toward  the  bench  of  magistrates.  No  one 
seemed  to  pay  attention ;  as  to  the  alcalde,  he  was  asleep. 

The  inspiration  of  the  preacher  increased.  He  spoke  of 
the  early  times  when  every  Filipino  encountering  a  priest 
uncovered,  knelt,  and  kissed  his  hand.  Now,  he  said,  there 
were  those  who,  because  they  had  studied  in  Manila  or  in 
Europe,  thought  fit  to  shake  the  hand  of  a  priest  instead  of 
kissing  it. 


io8  An  Eagle  Flight 

But  in  spite  of  the  cries  and  gestures  of  the  orator,  by 
this  time  many  of  his  auditors  slept,  and  few  listened. 
Some  of  the  devout  would  have  wept  over  the  sins  of  the 
ungodly,  but  nobody  joined  them,  and  they  were  forced  to 
give  it  up.  A  man  seated  beside  an  old  woman  went  so 
sound  asleep  that  he  fell  over  against  her.  The  good  woman 
took  her  slipper  and  tried  to  waken  him,  at  the  same  time 
crying  out : 

"Get  away!     Savage,  animal,  demon,  carabao!  " 

Naturally  this  raised  a  tumult.  The  preacher  elevated 
his  brows,  struck  dumb  by  such  a  scandal;  indignation 
strangled  the  words  in  his  throat;  he  could  only  strike  the 
pulpit  with  his  fists.  This  had  its  effect.  The  old  woman 
dropped  the  shoe  and,  still  grumbling  and  signing  herself, 
sank  on  her  knees. 

"  Ah,  ah,  ah,  ah ! "  the  irate  priest  could  at  last  articu- 
late. "  It  is  for  this  that  I  have  preached  to  you  all  the 
morning!  Savages!  You  respect  nothing!  Behold  the 
work  of  the  incontinence  of  the  century !  "  And  launched 
again  upon  this  theme,  he  preached  a  half  hour  longer. 
The  alcalde  breathed  loud,  Maria  Clara,  having  studied 
all  the  pictures  in  sight,  had  dropped  her  head.  Crisdstorao 
had  ceased  to  be  moved  by  the  sermon.  He  was  picturing 
a  little  house,  high  up  among  the  mountains,  with  Maria 
Clara  in  the  garden.  Why  concern  himself  with  men,  drag- 
ging out  their  lives  in  the  miserable  pueblos  of  the  valley? 

At  length  the  sermon  ended,  and  the  mass  went  on.  At 
the  moment  when  all  were  kneeling  and  the  priests  bowed 
their  heads  at  the  "  Incarnatus  est,"  a  man  murmured  in  Ibar- 
ra's ear:  "At  the  blessing  of  the  cornerstone  do  not  separate 
yourself  from  the  curate ;  do  not  go  down  into  the  trench. 
Your  life  is  at  stake!  " 

It  was  the  helmsman. 


XXVI. 

THE    CRANE. 

It  was  indeed  not  an  ordinary  crane  that  the  Mongol  had 
built  for  letting  the  enormous  cornerstone  of  the  school  into 
the  trench.  The  framework  was  complicated  and  the  cables 
passed  over  extraordinary  pulleys.  Flags,  streamers,  and 
garlands  of  flowers,  however,  hid  the  mechanism.  By  means 
of  a  cleverly  contrived  capstan,  the  enormous  stone  held  sus- 
pended over  the  open  trench  could  be  raised  or  lowered  with 
ease  by  a  single  man. 

"  See !  "  said  the  Mongol  to  Senor  Juan,  inserting  the  bar 
and  turning  it.  "  See  how  I  can  manipulate  the  thing  up 
here  and  unaided !  " 

Senor  Juan  was  full  of  admiration. 

"  Who  taught  you  mechanics?  "  he  asked. 

"My  father,  my  late  father,"  replied  the  man,  with  his 
peculiar  smile,  "  and  Don  Saturnino,  the  grandfather  of  Don 
Crisdstomo,  taught  him." 

"  You  must  know  then  about  Don  Saturnino " 

"Oh,  many  things!  Not  only  did  he  beat  his  workmen 
and  expose  them  to  the  sun,  but  he  knew  how  to  awaken 
sleepers  and  put  waking  men  to  sleep.  Ah,  you  will  see 
presently  what  he  could  teach!     You  will  see!  " 

On  a  table  with  Persian  spread,  beside  the  trench,  were 
the  things  to  be  put  into  the  cornerstone,  and  the  glass  box 
and  leaden  cylinder  which  were  to  preserve  for  the  future 
these  souvenirs,  this  mummy  of  an  epoch. 

Under  two   long   booths  near  at  hand  were  sumptuous 


1 1  o  An  Eagle  Flight 

tables,  one  for  the  school-children,  without  wine,  and  heaped 
with  fruits;  the  other  for  the  distinguished  visitors.  The 
booths  were  joined  by  a  sort  of  bower  of  leafy  branches, 
where  were  chairs  for  the  musicians,  and  tables  with  cakes, 
confitures,  and  carafes  of  water,  for  the  public  in  general. 

The  crowd,  gay  in  garments  of  many  colors,  was  massed 
under  the  trees  to  avoid  the  ardent  rays  of  the  sun,  and  the 
children,  to  better  see  the  ceremony  of  the  dedication,  had 
climbed  up  among  the  branches. 

Soon  bands  were  heard  in  the  distance.  The  Mongol 
carefully  examined  his  construction;  he  seemed  nervous. 
A  man  with  the  appearance  of  a  peasant  standing  near  him 
on  the  edge  of  the  excavation  and  close  beside  the  capstan 
watched  all  his  movements.  It  was  Elias,  well  disguised 
by  his  salakot  and  rustic  costume. 

The  musicians  arrived,  preceded  by  a  crowd  of  old  and 
young  in  motley  array.  Behind  came  the  alcalde,  the  mu- 
nicipal guard  officers,  the  monks,  and  the  Spanish  Govern- 
ment clerks.  Ibarra  was  talking  with  the  alcalde;  Captain 
Tiago,  the  alf^rez,  the  curate  and  a  number  of  the  rich  coun- 
try gentlemen  accompanied  the  ladies,  whose  gay  parasols 
gleamed  in  the  sunshine. 

As  they  approached  the  trench,  Ibarra  felt  his  heart  beat. 
Instinctively  he  raised  his  eyes  to  the  strange  scaffolding. 
The  Mongol  saluted  him  respectfully,  and  looked  at  him  in- 
tently a  moment.  Ibarra  recognized  Elias  through  his  dis- 
guise, and  the  mysterious  helmsman,  by  a  significant  glance, 
recalled  the  warning  in  the  church. 

The  curate  put  on  his  robes  and  began  the  office.  The 
one-eyed  sacristan  held  his  book;  a  choir  boy  had  in  charge 
the  holy  water  and  sprinkler.  The  men  uncovered,  and  the 
crowd  stood  so  silent  that,  though  the  father  read  low,  his 
voice  was  heard  to  tremble. 

The  manuscripts,  journals,  money,  and  medals  to  be  pre- 


The  Crane  n  i 

served  in  remembrance  of  this  day  had  been  placed  in  the 
glass  box  and  the  box  itself  hermetically  sealed  within  the 
leaden  cylinder. 

"  Seiior  Ibarra,  will  you  place  the  box  in  the  stone?  The 
curate  is  waiting  for  you,"  said  the  alcalde  in  Ibarra's 
ear. 

"  I  should  do  so  with  great  pleasure,"  said  Ibarra, "  but  it 
would  be  a  usurpation  of  the  honor;  that  belongs  to  the 
notary,  who  must  draw  up  the  written  process." 

The  notary  gravely  took  the  box,  descended  the  carpeted 
stairway  which  led  to  the  bottom  of  the  trench,  and  with  due 
solemnity  deposited  his  burden  in  the  hollow  of  the  stone 
already  laid.  The  curate  took  the  sprinkler  and  sprinkled 
the  stone  with  holy  water. 

Each  one  was  now  to  deposit  his  trowel  of  cement  on  the 
surface  of  the  lower  stone,  to  seal  it  to  the  stone  held  sus- 
pended by  the  crane  when  that  should  be  lowered. 

Ibarra  offered  the  alcalde  a  silver  trowel,  on  which  was 
engraved  the  date  of  the  fete,  but  before  using  it  His  Excel- 
lency pronounced  a  short  allocution  in  Castilian. 

"  Citizens  of  San  Diego,"  he  said,  "  we  have  the  honor  of 
presiding  at  a  ceremony  whose  importance  you  know  with- 
out explanations.  We  are  founding  a  school,  and  the  school 
is  the  basis  of  society,  the  book  wherein  is  written  the  future 
of  each  race. 

"  Citizens  of  San  Diego!  Thank  God,  who  has  given  you 
these  priests!  Thank  the  Mother  Country,  who  spreads 
civilization  in  these  fertile  isles  and  protects  them  with  the 
covering  of  her  glorious  mantle.  Thank  God,  again,  who 
has  enlightened  you  by  his  priests  from  his  divine  Word. 

"And  now  that  the  first  stone  of  this  building  has  been 
blessed,  we,  the  alcalde  of  this  province,  in  the  name  of  His 
Majesty  the  King,  whom  God  guard;  in  the  name  of  the 
illustrious  Spanish  Government,  and  under  the  protection 


112  An  Eagle  Flight 

of  its  spotless  and  ever-victorious  flag,  consecrate  this  act 
and  begin  the  building  of  this  school! 

"Citizens  of  San  Diego,  long  live  the  king!  Long  live 
Spain!  Long  live  the  religious  orders!  Long  live  the 
Catholic  church ! " 

"Long  live  the  Senor  Alcalde!  "  replied  many  voices. 

Then  the  high  official  descended  majestically,  to  the 
strains  of  the  orchestras,  put  his  trowel  of  cement  on  the 
stone,  and  came  back  as  majestically  as  he  had  gone 
down. 

The  Government  clerks  applauded. 

Ibarra  offered  the  trowel  to  the  curate,  who  descended 
slowly  in  his  turn.  In  the  middle  of  the  staircase  he  raised 
his  eyes  to  the  great  stone  suspended  above,  but  he  stopped 
only  a  second,  and  continued  the  descent.  This  time  the 
applause  was  a  little  warmer,  Captain  Tiago  and  the  monks 
adding  theirs  to  that  of  the  clerks. 

The  notary  followed.  He  gallantly  offered  the  trowel  to 
Maria  Clara,  but  she  refused,  with  a  smile.  The  monks,  the 
alfdrez,  and  others  descended  in  turn,  Captain  Tiago  not  be- 
ing forgotten. 

Ibarra  was  left.  He  had  ordered  the  stone  to  be  lowered 
when  the  curate  remembered  him. 

"  You  do  not  put  on  your  trowelful,  Senor  Ibarra  ?  "  said 
the  curate,  with  a  familiar  and  jocular  air. 

"  I  should  be  Juan  Palomo,  who  made  the  soup  and  then 
ate  it,"  replied  Crisdstomo  in  the  same  light  tone. 

"You  go  down,  of  course,"  said  the  alcalde,  taking  him 
by  the  arm  in  friendly  fashion.  "  If  not,  I  shall  order  that 
the  stone  be  kept  suspended,  and  we  shall  stay  here  till  the 
Day  of  Judgment !  " 

Such  a  menace  forced  Ibarra  to  obey.  He  exchanged  the 
silver  trowel  for  a  larger  one  of  iron,  as  some  people  no- 
ticed, and  started  out  calmly.     Elias  gave  him  an  indefin- 


The  Crane 


113 


able  look;  his  whole  being  seemed  in  it.  The  Mongol's 
eyes  were  on  the  abyss  at  his  feet. 

Ibarra,  after  glancing  rapidly  at  the  block  over  his  head, 
at  Elias,  and  at  the  Mongol,  said  to  Senor  Juan,  in  a  voice 
that  trembled : 

"  Give  me  the  tray  and  bring  me  the  other  trowel." 

He  stood  alone.  Elias  no  longer  looked  at  him,  his  eyes 
were  riveted  on  the  hands  of  the  Mongol,  who,  bending  over, 
was  anxiously  following  the  movements  of  Ibarra.  Then 
the  sound  of  Ibarra's  trowel  was  heard,  accompanied  by  the 
low  murmur  of  the  clerks'  voices  as  they  felicitated  the  al- 
calde on  his  speech. 

Suddenly  a  frightful  noise  rent  the  air.  A  pulley  at- 
tached to  the  base  of  the  crane  sprang  out,  dragging  after  it 
the  capstan,  which  struck  the  crane  like  a  lever.  The 
beams  tottered,  the  cables  broke,  and  the  whole  fabric  col- 
lapsed with  a  deafening  roar  and  in  a  whirlwind  of  dust. 

A  thousand  voices  filled  the  place  with  cries  of  horror. 
People  fled  in  all  directions.  Only  Maria  Clara  and  Brother 
Salvi  remained  where  they  were,  pale,  mute,  incapable  of 
motion. 

As  the  cloud  of  dust  thinned,  Ibarra  was  seen  upright 
among  the  beams,  joists  and  cables,  between  the  capstan 
and  the  great  stone  that  had  fallen.  He  still  held  the 
trowel  in  his  hand.  With  eyes  frightful  to  look  at,  he  re- 
garded a  corpse  half  buried  under  the  beams  at  his  feet. 

"Are  you  unhurt?  Are  you  alive?  For  God's  sake, 
speak!  "  cried  some  one  at  last. 

"A  miracle!     A  miracle!"  cried  others. 

"  Come,  take  out  the  body  of  this  man,"  said  Ibarra,  as 
if  waking  from  a  dream.  At  the  sound  of  his  voice  Maria 
Clara  would  have  fallen  but  for  the  arms  of  her  friends. 

Then  everything  was  confusion.  All  talked  at  once,  ges- 
tured, went  hither  and  thither,  and  knew  not  what  to  do. 


1 1 4  An  Eagle  Flight 

"Who  is  killed?  "  demanded  the  alfdrez. 

"Arrest  the  head  builder!"  were  the  first  words  the 
alcalde  could  pronounce. 

They  brought  up  the  body  and  examined  it.  It  was  that 
of  the  Mongol.     The  heart  no  longer  beat. 

The  priests  shook  Ibarra's  hand,  and  warmly  congratu- 
lated him. 

"  When  I  think  that  I  was  there  a  moment  before!  "  said 
one  of  the  clerks, 

"  It  is  well  they  gave  the  trowel  to  you  instead  of  me," 
said  a  trembling  old  man. 

"  Don  Pascal!  "  cried  some  of  the  Spaniards. 

"  Senores,  the  Seiior  Ibarra  lives,  while  I,  if  I  had  not 
been  crushed,  should  have  died  of  fright." 

Ibarra  had  been  to  inform  himself  of  Maria  Clara. 

"  Let  the  fete  continue,  Senor  Ibarra,"  said  the  alcalde,  as 
he  came  back.  "  Thank  God,  the  dead  is  neither  priest  nor 
Spaniard!  You  ought  to  celebrate  your  escape !  What  if 
the  stone  had  fallen  on  you ! " 

"He  had  presentiments!"  cried  the  notary.  "He  did 
not  want  to  go  down,  that  was  plain  to  be  seen! " 

"It's  only  an  Indian!" 

"Let  the  fete  go  on!  Give  us  music!  Mourning  won't 
raise  the  dead.  Captain,  let  the  inquest  be  held !  Arrest 
the  head  builder! " 

"  Shall  he  be  put  in  the  stocks?  " 

"Yes,  in  the  stocks!  Music,  music!  The  head  builder 
in  the  stocks !  " 

"  Senor  Alcalde,"  said  Ibarra,  "  if  mourning  won't  raise 
the  dead,  neither  will  the  imprisonment  of  a  man  whose 
guilt  is  not  proven.  I  go  security  for  his  person  and  ask 
his  liberty,  for  these  f^te  days  at  least." 

"Very  well!  But  let  him  not  repeat  it!"  said  the  al- 
calde. 


The  Crane  115 

All  kinds  of  rumors  circulated  among  the  people.  The 
idea  of  a  miracle  was  generally  accepted.  Many  said  they 
had  seen  descend  into  the  trench  at  the  fatal  moment  a  figure 
in  a  dark  costume,  like  that  of  the  Franciscans.  'Twas  no 
doubt  San  Diego  himself. 

"  A  bad  beginning,"  muttered  old  Tasio,  shaking  his  head 
as  he  moved  away. 
9 


XXVII. 


TREE   THOUGHT. 


Ibarra,  who  had  gone  home  for  a  change  of  clothing,  had 
just  finished  dressing  when  a  servant  announced  that  a  peas- 
ant wished  to  see  him.  Supposing  it  to  be  one  of  his  labor- 
ers, he  had  him  taken  to  his  work  room,  which  was  at  the 
same  time  his  library  and  chemical  laboratory.  To  his 
great  surprise  he  found  himself  face  to  face  with  the  mys- 
terious Elias. 

"  You  saved  my  life,"  said  the  man,  speaking  in  Tagalo, 
and  understanding  the  movement  of  Ibarra.  "  I  have  not 
half  paid  my  debt.  Do  not  thank  me.  It  is  I  who  should 
thank  you.     I  have  come  to  ask  a  favor." 

"  Speak!  "  said  his  listener. 

Elias  fixed  his  melancholy  eyes  on  Ibarra's  and  went  on : 

"  When  the  justice  of  man  tries  to  clear  up  this  mystery, 
and  your  testimony  is  taken,  I  entreat  you  not  to  speak  to 
any  one  of  the  warning  I  gave  you." 

"Do  not  be  alarmed,"  said  Crisdstomo,  losing  interest; 
"  I  know  you  are  pursued,  but  I'm  not  an  informer." 

"  I  don't  speak  for  myself,  but  for  you,"  said  Elias,  with 
some  haughtiness.     "  I  have  no  fear  of  men." 

Ibarra  grew  surprised.  This  manner  of  speaking  was 
new,  and  did  not  comport  with  the  state  or  fortunes  of  the 
helmsman. 

"  Explain  yourself !  "  he  demanded. 

"  J  am  not  speaking  enigmas.     To  insure  your  safety,  it 


Free  Thought  1 1 7 

is  necessary  that  your  enemies  believe  you  blind  and  con- 
fiding." 

"  To  insure  my  safety  ?  "  said  Ibarra,  thoroughly  aroused. 

"  You  undertake  a  great  enterprise,"  Elias  went  on.  "  You 
have  a  past.  Your  grandfather  and  your  father  had  ene- 
mies. It  is  not  criminals  who  provoke  the  most  hatred;  it 
is  honorable  men." 

"  You  know  my  enemies,  then  ?  " 

Elias  hesitated. 

"  I  knew  one ;  the  dead  man." 

"I  regret  his  death,"  said  Ibarra;  "from  him  I  might 
have  learned  more." 

"  Had  he  lived,  he  would  have  escaped  the  trembling 
hand  of  men's  justice.     God  has  judged  him !  " 

"  Do  you  also  believe  in  the  miracle  of  which  the  people 
talk?" 

"  If  I  believed  in  such  a  miracle,  I  should  not  believe  in 
God,  and  I  believe  in  Him;  I  have  more  than  once  felt  His 
hand.  At  the  moment  when  the  scaffolding  gave  way  I 
placed  myself  beside  the  criminal."     Elias  looked  at  Ibarra. 

"  You — you  mean  that  you " 

"  Yes,  when  his  deadly  work  was  about  to  be  done,  he  was 
going  to  flee;  I  held  him  there ;  I  had  seen  his  crime!  Let 
God  be  the  only  one  who  has  the  right  over  life !  " 

"  And  yet,  this  time  you " 

"No!  "  cried  Elias.  "I  exposed  the  criminal  to  the  risk 
he  had  prepared  for  others;  Iran  the  risk  myself;  and  I 
did  not  strike  him ;  I  left  him  to  be  struck  by  the  hand  of 
God!" 

Ibarra  regarded  the  man  in  silence. 

"  You  are  not  a  peasant,"  he  said  at  last.  "  Who  are  you  ? 
Have  you  studied? " 

"  I've  need  of  much  belief  in  God,  since  I've  lost  faith  in 
men,"  said  Elias,  evading  the  question. 


ii8  An  Eagle  Flight 

"  But  God  cannot  speak  to  resolve  each  of  the  countless 
contests  our  passions  raise;  it  is  necessary,  it  is  just,  that 
man  should  sometimes  judge  his  kind." 

"  For  good,  yes;  not  for  evil.  To  correct  and  ameliorate, 
not  to  destroy ;  because,  if  man's  judgments  are  erroneous, 
he  has  not  the  power  to  remedy  the  evil  he  has  done.  But 
this  discussion  is  over  my  head,  and  I  am  detaining  you. 
Do  not  forget  what  I  came  to  entreat ;  save  yourself  for  the 
good  of  your  country !  "     And  he  started  to  go. 

"  And  when  shall  I  see  you  again  ?  " 

"Whenever  you  wish;  whenever  I  can  be  of  use  to  you; 
I  am  always  your  debtor ! " 


XXVIII. 

THE    BANQUET. 

All  the  distinguished  people  of  the  province  were  united 
in  the  carpeted  and  decorated  booth.  The  alcalde  was  at 
one  end  of  the  table,  Ibarra  at  the  other.  The  talk  was  ani- 
mated, even  gay.  The  meal  was  half  finished  when  a  des- 
patch was  handed  to  Captain  Tiago.  He  asked  permission 
to  read  it;  his  face  paled;  then  lighted  up.  "Senores,"  he 
cried,  quite  beside  himself,  "  His  Excellency  the  captain- 
general  is  to  honor  my  house  with  his  presence!  "  And  he 
started  off  running,  carrying  his  despatch  and  his  napkin, 
forgetting  his  hat,  and  pursued  by  exclamations  and  ques- 
tions. The  announcement  of  the  tulisanes  could  not  have 
put  him  to  greater  confusion. 

"Wait  a  moment!     When  is  he  coming?     Tell  us?  " 

Captain  Tiago  was  already  in  the  distance. 

"  His  Excellency  asks  the  hospitality  of  Captain  Tiago! " 
the  guests  exclaimed,  apparently  forgetting  that  they  spoke 
before  his  daughter  and  his  future  son-in-law. 

"  He  could  hardly  make  a  better  choice,"  said  Ibarra, 
with  dignity. 

"This  was  spoken  of  yesterday,"  said  the  alcalde,  "but 
His  Excellency  had  not  fully  decided." 

"  Do  you  know  how  long  he  is  to  stay?  "  asked  the  alf^rez, 
uneasily. 

"  I'm  not  at  all  sure!  His  Excellency  is  fond  of  surpris- 
ing people." 

Three  other  despatches  were  brought.     They  were  for  the 


120  An  Eagle  Flight 

alcalde,  the  alf^rez,  and  the  gobernadorcillo,  and  identical, 
announcing  the  coming  of  the  governor.  It  was  remarked 
that  there  was  none  for  the  curate. 

"  His  Excellency  arrives  at  four  this  afternoon,"  said  the 
alcalde,  solemnly.  "  We  can  finish  our  repast."  It  might 
have  been  Leonidas  saying :  "  To-night  we  sup  with  Pluto!  " 

The  conversation  returned  to  its  former  course. 

"  I  notice  the  absence  of  our  great  preacher,"  said  one  of 
the  clerks,  an  honest,  inoffensive  fellow,  who  had  not  yet 
said  a  word.  Those  who  knew  the  story  of  Ibarra's  father 
looked  significantly  at  one  another.  "  Fools  rush  in,"  said 
the  glances  of  some ;  but  others,  more  considerate,  tried  to 
cover  the  error. 

"  He  must  be  somewhat  fatigued " 

"  Somewhat!  "  cried  the  alf^rez.  "  He  must  be  spent,  as 
they  say  here,  malunqueado.     What  a  sermon!  " 

"Superb!     Herculean!"  was  the  opinion  of  the  notary. 

"  Magnificent !  Profound ! "  said  a  newspaper  correspond- 
ent. 

In  the  other  booth  the  children  were  more  noisy  than  lit- 
tle Filipinos  are  wont  to  be,  for  at  table  or  before  strangers 
they  are  usually  rather  too  timid  than  too  bold.  If  one  of 
them  did  not  eat  with  propriety,  his  neighbor  corrected  him. 
To  one  a  certain  article  was  a  spoon ;  to  others  a  fork  or  a 
knife;  and  as  nobody  settled  their  questions,  they  were  in 
continual  uproar. 

Their  fathers  and  mothers,  simple  peasants,  looked  in 
ravishment  to  see  their  children  eating  on  a  white  cloth,  and 
doing  it  almost  as  well  as  the  curate  or  the  alcalde.  It  was 
better  to  them  than  a  banquet. 

"  Yes,"  said  a  young  peasant  woman  to  an  old  man  grind- 
ing his  buyo,  "  whatever  my  husband  says,  my  Andoy  shall 
be  a  priest.  It  is  true,  we  are  poor;  but  Father  Mateo  says 
Pope  Sixtu  was  once  a  keeper  of  carabaos  at  Batanzasl 


The  Banquet  121 

Look  at  my  Andoy ;  hasn't  he  a  face  like  St.  Vincent? "  and 
the  good  mother's  mouth  watered  at  the  sight  of  her  son  with 
his  fork  in  both  hands ! 

"  God  help  us ! "  said  the  old  man,  munching  his  sapa. 
"If  Andoy  gets  to  be  pope,  we  will  go  to  Rome!  I  can 
walk  yet!     Ho!     Ho!» 

Another  peasant  came  up. 

"  It's  decided,  neighbor,"  he  said, "  my  son  is  to  be  a  doc- 
tor." 

"  A  doctor !  Don't  speak  of  it !  "  replied  Petra.  "  There's 
nothing  like  being  a  curate !  He  has  only  to  make  two  or 
three  turns  and  say  *ddminos  pabiscum'  and  he  gets  his 
money." 

"  And  isn't  it  work  to  confess  ? " 

"  Work !  Think  of  the  trouble  we  take  to  find  out  the 
affairs  of  our  neighbors!  The  curate  has  only  to  sit  down, 
and  they  tell  him  everything!  " 

"  And  preaching?     Don't  you  call  that  work?  " 

"  Preaching  ?  Where  is  your  head  ?  To  scold  half  a  day 
from  the  pulpit  without  any  one's  daring  to  reply  and  be 
paid  for  it  into  the  bargain !  Look,  look  at  Father  Damaso ! 
See  how  fat  he  gets  with  his  shouting  and  pounding !  " 

In  truth,  Father  Ddmaso  was  that  moment  passing  the 
children's  booth  in  the  gait  peculiar  to  men  of  his  size.  As 
he  entered  the  other  booth,  he  was  half  smiling,  but  so  ma- 
liciously that  at  sight  of  it  Ibarra,  who  was  talking,  lost  the 
thread  of  his  speech. 

The  guests  were  astonished  to  see  the  father,  but  every 
one  except  Ibarra  received  him  with  signs  of  pleasure.  They 
were  at  the  dessert,  and  the  champagne  was  sparkling  in  the 
cups. 

Father  Ddmaso's  smile  became  nervous  when  he  saw 
Maria  Clara  sitting  next  Crisdstomo,  but,  taking  a  chair  be- 
side the  alcalde,  he  said  in  the  midst  of  a  significant  silence: 


122  An  Eagle  Flight 

"You  were  talking  of  something,  seiiores;  continue!" 

"  We  had  come  to  the  toasts,"  said  the  alcalde.  "  Sefior 
Ibarra  was  mentioning  those  who  had  aided  him  in  his  phil- 
anthropic enterprise,  and  he  was  speaking  of  the  architect 
when  your  reverence " 

"Ah,  well!  I  know  nothing  about  architecture,"  inter- 
rupted Father  Damaso, "  but  I  scorn  architects  and  the  sim- 
pletons who  make  use  of  them." 

"Nevertheless,"  said  the  alcalde,  as  Ibarra  was  silent, 
"  when  certain  buildings  are  in  question,  like  a  school,  for 
example,  an  expert  is  needed " 

"An  expert!"  cried  the  father,  with  sarcasm.  "One 
needs  be  more  stupid  than  the  Indians,  who  build  their  own 
houses,  not  to  know  how  to  raise  four  walls  and  put  a  roof 
on  them.     Nothing  else  is  needed  for  a  school !  " 

Every  one  looked  at  Ibarra,  but,  though  he  grew  a  little 
pale,  he  pursued  his  conversation  with  Maria  Clara. 

"  But  does  your  reverence  consider " 

"See  here!"  continued  the  Franciscan,  again  cutting  off 
the  alcalde.  "  See  how  one  of  our  lay  brothers,  the  most 
stupid  one  we  have,  built  a  hospital.  He  paid  the  workmen 
eight  cuartos  a  day,  and  got  them  from  other  pueblos,  too. 
Not  much  like  these  young  feather-brains  who  ruin  work- 
men, paying  them  three  or  four  rdales!  " 

"Does  your  reverence  say  he  paid  but  eight  cuartos? 
Impossible  I  "  said  the  alcalde,  hoping  to  change  the  course 
of  the  conversation. 

"  Yes,  senor,  and  so  should  those  do  who  pride  themselves 
upon  being  good  Spaniards.  Since  the  opening  of  the  Suez 
Canal,  corruption  has  reached  even  here !  When  the  Cape 
had  to  be  doubled,  not  so  many  ruined  men  came  here,  and 
fewer  went  abroad  to  ruin  themselves!  " 

"  But  Father  Ddmaso " 

"  You  know  the  Indian ;  as  soon  as  he  has  learned  any- 


The  Banquet  123 

thing,  he  takes  a  title.  All  these  beardless  youths  who  go 
to  Europe " 

"But,  your  reverence,  listen "    began  the  alcalde, 

alarmed  by  the  harshness  of  these  words. 

"  Finish  as  they  merit,"  continued  the  priest.  "  The  hand 
of  God  is  in  it;  he  is  blind  who  does  not  see  that.  Already 
even  the  fathers  of  these  reptiles  receive  their  chastisement ; 
they  die  in  prison !     Ah " 

He  did  not  finish.  Ibarra,  livid,  had  been  watching  him. 
At  these  words  he  rose,  gave  one  bound,  and  struck  out  with 
his  strong  hand.  The  monk,  stunned  by  the  blow,  fell  back- 
ward. 

Surprised  and  terrified,  not  one  of  the  spectators  moved. 

"  Let  no  one  come  near !  "  said  the  young  man  in  a  terri- 
ble voice,  drawing  his  slender  blade,  and  holding  the  neck 
of  the  priest  with  his  foot.  "  Let  no  one  come,  unless  he 
wishes  to  die." 

Ibarra  was  beside  himself,  his  whole  body  trembled,  his 
threatening  eyes  were  big  with  rage.  Father  Damaso,  re- 
gaining his  senses,  made  an  effort  to  rise,  but  Crisdstomo, 
grasping  his  neck,  shook  him  till  he  had  brought  him  to  his 
knees. 

"  Senor  de  Ibarra !  Senor  de  Ibarra !  "  stammered  one  and 
another.  But  nobody,  not  even  the  alf^rez,  risked  a  move- 
ment. They  saw  the  knife  glitter;  they  calculated  Crisds- 
tomo's  strength,  unleashed  by  anger;  they  were  paralyzed. 

"  All  you  here,  you  have  said  nothing.  Now  it  rests  with 
me.  I  avoided  him;  God  brings  him  to  me.  Let  God 
judge! " 

Ibarra  breathed  with  effort,  but  his  arm  of  iron  kept 
harsh  hold  of  the  Franciscan,  who  struggled  in  vain  to  free 
himself. 

"  My  heart  beats  true,  my  hand  is  firm "    And  he 

looked  about  him. 


124  An  Eagle  Flight 

"  I  ask  you  first,  is  there  among  you  any  one  who  has  not 
loved  his  father,  who  has  not  loved  his  father's  memory; 
any  one  born  in  shame  and  abasement?  See,  hear  this 
silence!  Priest  of  a  God  of  peace,  thy  mouth  full  of  sanc- 
tity and  religion,  thy  heart  of  corruption !  Thou  canst  not 
know  what  it  is  to  be  a  father ;  thou  shouldst  have  thought 
of  thy  own !  See,  in  all  this  crowd  that  you  scorn  there  is 
not  one  like  you!     You  are  judged!  " 

The  guests,  believing  he  was  going  to  strike,  made  their 
first  movement. 

"Do  not  come  near  us!"  he  cried  again  in  the  same 
threatening  voice.  "What?  You  fear  I  shall  stain  my 
hand  in  impure  blood?  Did  I  not  tell  you  that  my  heart 
beats  true?  Away  from  us,  and  listen,  priests,  believing 
yourselves  different  from  other  men,  giving  yourselves  other 
rights!  My  father  was  an  honorable  man.  Ask  the  coun- 
try which  venerates  his  memory.  My  father  was  a  good  citi- 
zen, whosacrified  himself  for  me  and  for  his  country's  good. 
His  house  was  open,  his  table  set  for  the  stranger  or  the 
exile  who  should  turn  to  him !  He  was  a  Christian ;  always 
doing  good,  never  pressing  the  weak,  nor  forcing  tears  from 
the  wretched.  As  to  this  man,  he  opened  his  door  to  him, 
made  him  sit  down  at  his  table,  and  called  him  friend. 
And  how  did  the  man  respond?  He  falsely  accused  him; 
he  pursued  him;  he  armed  ignorance  against  him!  Confid- 
ing in  the  sanctity  of  his  office,  he  outraged  his  tomb,  dis- 
honored his  memory;  his  hate  troubled  even  the  rest  of  the 
dead.  And  not  yet  satisfied,  he  now  pursues  the  son.  I 
fled  from  him,  avoided  his  presence.  You  heard  him  this 
morning  profane  the  chair,  point  me  out  to  the  people's 
fanaticism;  but  I  said  nothing.  Now,  he  comes  here  to 
seek  a  quarrel;  I  suffer  in  silence,  until  he  again  insults  a 
memory  sacred  to  all  sons. 

"  You  who  are  here,  priests,  magistrates,  have  you  seen 


The  Banquet  125 

your  old  father  give  himself  for  you,  part  from  you  for  your 
good,  die  of  grief  in  a  prison,  looking  for  your  embrace, 
looking  for  consolation  from  any  one  who  would  bring  it, 
sick,  alone;  while  you  in  a  foreign  land?  Then  have  you 
heard  his  name  dishonored,  found  his  tomb  empty  when  you 
went  there  to  pray  ?  No  ?  You  are  silent ;  then  you  con- 
demn him ! " 

He  raised  his  arm.  But  a  girl,  rapid  as  light,  threw  her- 
self between  him  and  the  priest,  and  with  her  fragile  hands 
held  the  avenging  arm.  It  was  Maria  Clara.  Ibarra  looked 
at  her  with  eyes  like  a  madman's.  Then,  little  by  little,  his 
tense  fingers  relaxed;  he  let  fall  the  knife,  and,  covering  his 
face  with  his  hands,  he  fled. 


XXIX. 

OPINIONS. 

The  noise  of  the  affair  spread  rapidly.  At  first  no  one 
believed  it,  but  when  there  was  no  longer  room  for  doubt, 
each  made  his  comments,  according  to  the  degree  of  his  moral 
elevation. 

"  Father  Damaso  is  dead,"  said  some.  "  When  he  was 
carried  away,  his  face  was  congested  with  blood,  and  he  no 
longer  breathed." 

"May  he  rest  in  peace,  but  he  has  only  paid  his  debt! " 
said  a  young  stranger. 

"  Why  do  you  say  that?  " 

"  One  of  us  students  who  came  from  Manila  for  the  fete 
left  the  church  when  the  sermon  in  Tagalo  began,  saying  it 
was  Greek  to  him.  Father  Damaso  sent  for  him  afterward, 
and  they  came  to  blows." 

"  Are  we  returning  to  the  times  of  Nero  ?  "  asked  another 
student. 

"  You  mistake,"  replied  the  first.  "  Nero  was  an  artist, 
and  Father  Ddmaso  is  a  jolly  poor  preacher!  " 

The  men  of  more  years  talked  otherwise. 

"  To  say  which  was  wrong  and  which  right  is  not  easy," 
said  the  gobernadorcillo,  "  and  yet,  if  Senor  Ibarra  had  been 
more  moderate " 

"  You  probably  mean,  if  Father  Ddmaso  had  shown  half 
the  moderation  of  Senor  Ibarra,"  interrupted  Don  Filipo. 
"  The  pity  is  that  the  roles  were  interchanged :  the  youth 


Opinions  1 27 


conducted  himself  like  an  old  man,  and  the  old  man  like  a 
youth." 

"  And  5'ou  say  nobody  but  the  daughter  of  Captain  Tiago 
came  between  them?  Not  a  monk,  nor  the  alcalde?  "  asked 
Captain  Martin.  "  I  wouldn't  like  to  be  in  the  young  man's 
shoes.  None  of  those  who  were  afraid  of  him  will  ever  for- 
give him.     Hah,  that's  the  worst  of  it!  " 

"You  think  so?  "  demanded  Captain  Basilio,  with  inter- 
est. 

"I  hope,"  said  Don  Filipo,  exchanging  glances  with  Cap- 
tain Basilio,  "  that  the  pueblo  isn't  going  to  desert  him. 
His  friends  at  least " 

"But,  seiiores,"  interrupted  the  gobernadorcillo,  "what 
can  we  do  ?  What  can  the  pueblo  ?  Whatever  happens,  the 
monks  are  always  in  the  right " 

"They  are  always  in  the  right,  because  we  always  say 
they're  in  the  right.  Let  us  say  we  are  in  the  right  for  once, 
and  then  we  shall  have  something  to  talk  about! " 

The  gobernadorcillo  shook  his  head. 

"  Ah,  the  young  blood !  "  he  said.  "  You  don't  seem  to 
know  what  country  you  live  in;  you  don't  know  your  com- 
patriots. The  monks  are  rich ;  they  are  united;  we  are  poor 
and  divided.  Try  to  defend  him  and  you  will  see  how  you 
are  left  to  compromise  yourself  alone !  " 

"Yes,''  cried  Don  Filipo  bitterly,  "and  it  will  be  so  as 
long  as  fear  and  prudence  are  supposed  to  be  synonymous. 
Each  thinks  of  himself,  nobody  of  any  one  else ;  that  is  why 
we  are  weak !  " 

"  Very  well !  Think  of  others  and  see  how  soon  the  others 
will  let  you  hang!  " 

" I've  had  enough  of  it!"  cried  the  exasperated  lieuten- 
ant.    "  I  shall  give  my  resignation  to  the  alcalde  to-day." 

The  women  had  still  other  thoughts. 

"  Aye ! "  said  one  of  them.     "  Young  people  are  always 


128  An  Eagle  Flight 

the  same.  If  his  good  mother  were  living,  what  would  she 
say  ?  When  I  think  that  my  son,  who  is  a  young  hothead, 
too,  might  have  done  the  same  thing " 

"I'm  not  with  you,"  said  another  woman.  "I  should 
have  nothing  against  my  two  sons  if  they  did  as  Don  Crisds- 
tomo." 

"What  are  you  saying,  Capitana  Maria?  "  cried  the  first 
woman,  clasping  her  hands. 

"  I'm  a  poor  stupid,"  said  a  third,  the  Capitana  Tinay, 
"but  I  know  what  I'm  going  to  do.  I'm  going  to  tell  my 
son  not  to  study  any  more.  They  say  men  of  learning  all 
die  on  the  gallows.  Holy  Mary,  and  my  son  wants  to  go  to 
Europe ! " 

"  If  I  were  rich  as  you,  my  children  should  travel,"  said 
the  Capitana  Maria.  "  Our  sons  ought  to  aspire  to  be  more 
than  their  fathers.  I  have  not  long  to  live,  and  we  shall 
meet  again  in  the  other  world." 

"  Your  ideas,  Capitana  Maria,  are  little  Christian,"  said 
Sister  Rufa  severely.  "  Make  yourself  a  sister  of  the  Sacred 
Rosary,  or  of  St.  Francis." 

"  Sister  Rufa,  when  I'm  a  worthy  sister  of  men,  I  will 
think  about  being  a  sister  of  the  saints,"  said  the  capitana, 
smiling. 

Under  the  booth  where  the  children  had  their  feast  the 
father  of  the  one  who  was  to  be  a  doctor  was  talking. 

"What  troubles  me  most,"  said  he,  "is  that  the  school 
will  not  be  finished;  my  son  will  not  be  a  doctor,  but  a 
carter." 

"  Who  said  there  wouldn't  be  a  school  ?  " 

"  I  say  so.  The  White  Fathers  have  called  Don  Crisds- 
tomo  plibastiero.     There  won't  be  any  school." 

The  peasants  questioned  each  other's  faces.  The  word 
was  new  to  them. 

"  And  is  that  a  bad  name  ? "  one  at  last  ventured  to  ask. 


Opinions  129 


"  It's  the  worst  one  Christian  can  give  another." 

"  Worse  than  tarantado  and  saragate  ?  " 

"  If  it  weren't,  it  wouldn't  amount  to  much." 

"  Come  now.  It  can't  be  worse  than  indio,  as  the  alfdrez 
says." 

He  whose  son  was  to  be  a  carter  looked  gloomy.  The 
other  shook  his  head  and  reflected. 

"  Then  is  it  as  bad  as  betalapora,  that  the  old  woman  of 
the  alf drez  says  ?  " 

"  You  remember  the  word  ispkhoso  (suspect) ,  which  had 
only  to  be  said  of  a  man  to  have  the  guards  lead  him  off  to 
prison  ?  Well,  plibastiero  is  worse  yet ;  if  any  one  calls  you 
plibastiero,  you  can  confess  and  pay  your  debts,  for  there's 
nothing  else  left  to  do  but  get  yourself  hanged.  That's  what 
the  telegrapher  and  the  sub-director  say,  and  you  know 
whether  the  telegrapher  and  the  sub-director  ought  to  know: 
one  talks  with  iron  wires,  and  the  other  knows  Spanish,  and 
handles  nothing  but  the  pen." 

The  last  hope  fled. 


XXX. 

THE   FIRST   CLOUD. 

The  home  of  Captain  Tiago  was  naturally  not  less  dis- 
turbed than  the  minds  of  the  crowd.  Maria  Clara  refused 
to  be  comforted  by  her  aunt  and  her  foster-sister.  Her 
father  had  forbidden  her  to  speak  to  Crisdstomo  until  the 
ban  of  excommunication  should  be  raised. 

In  the  midst  of  his  preparations  for  receiving  the  gov- 
ernor-general Captain  Tiago  was  summoned  to  the  convent. 

"  Don't  cry,  my  child,"  said  Aunt  Isabel,  as  she  polished 
the  mirrors  with  a  chamois  skin,  *'  the  ban  will  be  raised. 
They  will  write  to  the  holy  father.  We  will  make  a  big 
offering.     Father  Dimaso  only  fainted ;  he  isn't  dead !  " 

"  Don't  cry,"  whispered  Andeng;  "  I  will  arrange  to  meet 
Crisdstomo." 

At  last  Captain  Tiago  came  back.  They  scanned  his  face 
for  answers  to  many  questions;  but  the  face  of  Captain 
Tiago  spoke  discouragement.  The  poor  man  passed  his 
hand  across  his  brow  and  seemed  unable  to  frame  a  word. 

"Well,  Santiago?  "  demanded  the  anxious  aunt. 

He  wiped  away  a  tear  and  replied  by  a  sigh. 

*' Speak,  for  heaven's  sake!     What  is  it.''  " 

"  What  I  all  the  time  feared,"  he  said  at  last,  conquering 
his  tears.  "Everything  is  lost!  Father  Damaso orders  me 
to  break  the  promise  of  marriage.  They  all  say  the  same 
thing,  even  Father  Sibyla.  I  must  shut  the  doors  of  my 
house  to  him,  and — I  owe  him  more  than  fifty  thousand 
pesos!  I  told  the  fathers  so,  but  they  wouldn't  take  it  into 
account.     *  Which  would  you  rather  lose,'  they  said,  *  fifty 


The  First  Cloud  131 

thousand  pesos  or  your  soul? '     Ah,  St.  Anthony,  if  I  had 
known,  if  I  had  known !  " 

Maria  Clara  was  sobbing. 

"Don't  cry,  my  child,"  he  said,  turning  to  her;  "you 
aren't  like  your  mother;  she  never  cried.  Father  Damaso 
told  me  that  a  young  friend  of  his  is  coming  from  Spain ; 
he  intends  him  for  your  fianc^ " 

Maria  Clara  stopped  her  ears. 

"But,  Santiago,  are  you  mad?"  cried  Aunt  Isabel. 
"Speak  to  her  of  another  fiancd  now?  Do  you  think  your 
daughter  changes  them  as  she  does  her  gloves  ?  " 

"  I  have  thought  about  it,  Isabel ;  but  what  would  you 
have  me  do?  They  threaten  me,  too,  with  excommunica- 
tion." 

"  And  you  do  nothing  but  distress  your  daughter!  Aren't 
you  the  friend  of  the  archbishop  ?  Why  don't  you  write  to 
him?" 

"The  archbishop  is  a  monk,  too.  He  will  do  only  what 
the  monks  say.  But  don't  cry,  Maria;  the  governor-gen- 
eral is  coming.  He  will  want  to  see  you,  and  your  eyes 
will  be  red.  Alas,  I  thought  I  was  going  to  have  such  a 
good  afternoon!  Without  this  misfortune  I  should  be  the 
happiest  of  men,  with  everybody  envying  me !  Be  calm,  my 
child,  I  am  more  unhappy  than  you,  and  I  don't  cry.  You 
may  find  a  better  fiancd ;  but  as  for  me,  I  lose  fifty  thousand 
pesos!  Ah,  Virgin  of  Antipole,  if  only  I  have  luck  to- 
night!" 

Salvos,  the  sound  of  wheels  and  of  horses  galloping,  the 
band  playing  the  Royal  March,  announced  the  arrival 
of  His  Excellency  the  governor-general  of  the  Philippine 
Islands.  Maria  Clara  ran  to  hide  in  her  chamber.  Poor 
girl !  Her  heart  was  at  the  mercy  of  rude  hands  that  had 
no  sense  of  its  delicate  fibres. 

While  the  house  was  filling  with  people,  while  heavy  foot- 
xo 


132  An  Eagle  Flight 

steps,  words  of  command,  and  the  hurling  of  sabres  and 
spurs  resounded  all  about,  the  poor  child,  heart-broken,  was 
half-lying,  half-kneeling  before  that  picture  of  the  Virgin 
where  Delaroche  represents  her  in  a  grievous  solitude,  as 
though  he  had  surprised  her  returning  from  the  sepulchre  of 
her  son.  Maria  Clara  did  not  think  of  the  grief  of  this 
mother;  she  thought  only  of  her  own.  Her  head  bent  on 
her  breast,  her  hands  pressed  against  the  floor,  she  seemed 
a  lily  broken  by  the  storm.  A  future  for  years  caressed  in 
dreams,  illusions  born  in  childhood,  fostered  in  youth,  grown 
a  part  of  her  being,  they  thought  to  shatter  all  these  with  a 
word,  to  drive  it  all  out  of  her  mind  and  heart.  A  devout 
Catholic,  a  loving  daughter,  the  excommunication  terrified 
her.  Not  so  much  her  father's  commands  as  her  desire  for 
his  peace  of  mind  demanded  from  her  the  sacrifice  of  her 
love.  And  in  this  moment  she  felt  for  the  first  time  the 
full  strength  of  her  affection  for  Crisdstomo.  The  peaceful 
river  glides  over  its  sandy  bed  under  the  nodding  flowers 
along  its  banks;  the  wind  scarcely  ridges  its  current;  it 
seems  to  sleep;  but  farther  down  the  banks  close  in,  rough 
rocks  choke  the  channel,  a  heap  of  knotty  trunks  forms  a 
dyke;  then  the  river  roars,  revolts,  its  waters  whirl,  and 
shake  their  plumes  of  spray,  and,  raging,  beat  the  rocks  and 
rush  on  madly.  So  this  tranquil  love  was  now  transformed 
and  the  tempests  were  let  loose. 

She  would  have  prayed;  but  who  can  pray  without  hope? 
"O  God!  "  her  heart  complained.  "Why  refuse  a  man  the 
love  of  others?  Thou  givest  him  the  sunshine  and  the  air; 
thou  dost  not  hide  from  him  the  sight  of  heaven.  Why  take 
away  that  love  without  which  he  cannot  live?  " 

The  poor  child,  who  had  never  known  a  mother  of  her 
own,  had  brought  her  grief  to  that  pure  heart  which  knew 
only  filial  and  maternal  love,  to  that  divine  image  of  woman- 
hood of  whose  tenderness  we  dream,  whom  we  call  Mary. 


The  First  Cloud  133 

"  Mother,  mother !  "  she  sobbed. 

Aunt  Isabel  came  to  find  her ;  her  friends  were  there,  and 
the  governor-general  had  asked  for  her. 

"  Dear  aunt,  tell  them  I  am  ill ! "  she  begged  in  terror. 
"They  will  want  me  to  play  and  sing! " 

"  Your  father  has  promised.  Would  you  make  your  father 
break  his  word? " 

Maria  Clara  rose,  looked  at  her  aunt,  threw  out  her  beau- 
tiful arms  with  a  sob,  then  stood  still  till  she  was  outwardly 
calm,  and  went  to  obey. 


XXXI. 

HIS    EXCELLENCY. 

"  I  WANT  to  talk  with  that  young  man,"  said  the  general 
to  one  of  his  aids ;  "  he  rouses  all  my  interest." 

"  He  has  been  sent  for,  my  general ;  but  there  is  here  an- 
other young  man  of  Manila  who  insists  upon  seeing  you. 
We  told  him  you  have  not  the  time ;  that  you  did  not  come 
to  give  audiences.  He  replied  that  Your  Excellency  has  al- 
ways the  time  to  do  justice." 

The  general,  perplexed,  turned  to  the  alcalde. 

"If  I  am  not  mistaken,"  said  the  alcalde,  with  an  in- 
clination of  the  head,  "  it  is  a  student  who  this  morning  had 
trouble  with  Father  Damaso  about  the  sermon." 

"  Another  still  ?  Has  this  monk  started  out  to  put  the 
province  to  revolt,  or  does  he  think  he  commands  here? 
Admit  the  young  man ! "  And  the  governor  got  up  and 
walked  nervously  back  and  forth. 

In  the  ante-chamber  some  Spanish  officers  and  all  the  func- 
tionaries of  the  pueblo  were  talking  in  groups.  All  the 
monks,  too,  except  Father  Ddmaso,  had  come  to  pay  their 
respects  to  the  governor. 

"  His  Excellency  begs  your  reverences  to  attend  a  mo- 
ment," said  the  aide-de-camp.     "  Enter,  young  man!  " 

The  young  Manllian  who  confounded  the  Tagalo  with  the 
Greek  entered,  trembling. 

Every  one  was  greatly  astonished.  His  Excellency  must 
be  much  annoyed  to  make  the  monks  wait  this  way.  Said 
Brother  Sibyla: 


His  Excellency  135 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say  to  him,  and  I'm  wasting  my  time 
here." 

" I  also,"  said  an  Augustin.     "  Shall  we  go?  " 

"  Would  it  not  be  better  to  find  out  what  he  thinks  ? " 
asked  Brother  Salvi.  "  We  should  avoid  a  scandal,  and  we 
could  remind  him — of  his  duty " 

"  Your  reverences  may  enter,"  said  the  aid,  conducting 
back  the  young  man,  who  came  out  radiant. 

The  fathers  went  in  and  saluted  the  governor. 

"Who  among  your  reverences  is  the  Brother  Damaso?" 
demanded  His  Excellency  at  once,  without  asking  them  to 
be  seated  or  inquiring  for  their  health,  and  without  any  of 
those  complimentary  phrases  which  form  the  repertory  of 
dignitaries. 

"  Senor,  Father  Damaso  is  not  with  us,"  replied  Father 
Sibyla,  in  a  tone  almost  as  dry. , 

"Your  Excellency's  servant  is  ill,"  added  the  humble 
Brother  Salvi.  "  We  come,  after  saluting  Your  Excellency 
and  inquiring  for  his  health,  to  speak  in  the  name  of  Your 
Excellency's  respectful  servant,  who  has  had  the  misfor- 
tune  " 

"  Oh ! "  interrupted  the  captain-general,  with  a  nervous 
smile,  while  he  twirled  a  chair  on  one  leg.  "  If  all  the  ser- 
vants of  my  Excellency  were  like  the  Father  Damaso,  I  should 
prefer  to  serve  my  Excellency  myself !  " 

Their  reverences  did  not  seem  to  know  what  to  reply. 

"  Won't  your  reverences  sit  down  ?  "  added  the  governor 
in  more  conventional  tone. 

Captain  Tiago,  in  evening  dress  and  walking  on  tiptoe, 
came  in,  leading  by  the  hand  Maria  Clara,  hesitating,  timid. 
Overcoming  her  agitation,  she  made  her  salute,  at  once  cere- 
monial and  graceful. 

"This  signorita  is  your  daughter!"  exclaimed  the  sur- 
prised governor.     "  Happy  the  fathers  whose  daughters  are 


136  An  Eagle  Flight 

like  you,  signorita.  They  have  told  me  about  you,  and  I 
wish  to  thank  you  in  the  name  of  His  Majesty  the  King, 
who  loves  the  peace  and  tranquillity  of  his  subjects,  and  in 
my  own  name,  in  that  of  a  father  who  has  daughters.  If 
there  is  anything  you  would  wish,  signorita " 

"Senor!"  protested  Maria,  trembling. 

"  The  Senor  Don  Juan  Crisdstomo  Ibarra  awaits  Your  Ex- 
cellency's orders,"  announced  the  ringing  voice  of  the  aide- 
de-camp. 

"  Permit  me,  signorita,  to  see  you  again  before  I  leave  the 
pueblo.  I  have  yet  things  to  say  to  you.  Senor  acalde. 
Your  Highness  will  accompany  me  on  the  walk  I  wish  to 
take  after  the  private  conference  I  shall  have  with  the  Senor 
Ibarra." 

"  Your  Excellency,"  said  Father  Salvi  humbly,  "  will  per- 
mit us  to  inform  him  that  the  Senor  Ibarra  is  excommuni- 
cated  " 

The  general  broke  in. 

*'  I  am  happy,"  he  said,  "  in  being  troubled  about  nothing 
but  the  state  of  Father  Damaso.  Fsincerely  desire  his  com- 
plete recovery,  for,  at  his  age,  a  voyage  to  Spain  in  search 
of  health  would  be  somewhat  disagreeable.  But  all  depends 
upon  him.  Meanwhile,  God  preserve  the  health  of  your 
reverences ! " 

All  retired. 

"In  his  own  case  also  everything  depends  upon  him," 
murmured  Brother  Salvi  as  he  went  out. 

"  We  shall  see  who  makes  the  earliest  voyage  to  Spain !  " 
added  another  Franciscan. 

"I  shall  go  immediately,"  said  Father  Sibyla,  in  vexa- 
tion. 

"  We,  too,"  grumbled  the  Augustins. 

Both  parties  bore  it  ill  that  for  the  fault  of  a  Franciscan 
His  Excellency  should  have  received  them  so  coldly. 


His  Excellency  137 

In  the  ante-chamber  they  encountered  Ibarra,  who  a  few 
hours  before  had  been  their  host.  There  was  no  exchange 
of  greetings,  but  there  were  eloquent  looks.  The  alcalde, 
on  the  contrary,  gave  Ibarra  his  hand.  On  the  threshold 
Crisdstomo  met  Maria  coming  out.  Looks  spoke  again,  but 
very  differently  this  time. 

Though  this  encounter  with  the  monks  had  seemed  to 
him  of  bad  augury,  Ibarra  presented  himself  in  the  utmost 
calm.  He  bowed  profoundly.  The  captain-general  came 
forward. 

"  It  gives  me  the  greatest  satisfaction,  Senor  Ibarra,  to 
take  you  by  the  hand.  I  hope  for  your  entire  confidence." 
And  he  examined  the  young  man  with  evident  satisfaction. 

"  Senor,  so  much  kindness " 

"  Your  surprise  shows  that  you  did  not  expect  a  friendly 
reception ;  that  was  to  doubt  my  fairness," 

"  A  friendly  reception,  senor,  for  an  insignificant  subject 
of  His  Majesty,  like  myself,  is  not  fairness,  but  favor." 

"Well,  well!"  said  the  general,  sitting  down  and  mo- 
tioning Crisdstomo  to  a  seat.  "  Let  us  have  a  moment  of 
open  hearts.  I  am  much  gratified  by  what  you  are  doing, 
and  have  proposed  you  to  the  Government  of  His  Majesty 
for  a  decoration  in  recompense  for  your  project  of  the  school. 
Had  you  invited  me,  I  should  have  found  it  a  pleasure  to 
be  here  for  the  ceremony.  Perhaps  I  should  have  been  able 
to  save  you  an  annoyance.  But  as  to  what  happened  be- 
tween you  and  Father  Ddmaso,  have  neither  fear  nor  regrets. 
Not  a  hair  of  your  head  shall  be  harmed  so  long  as  I  gov- 
ern the  islands;  and  in  regard  to  the  excommunication,  I 
will  talk  with  the  archbishop.  We  must  conform  ourselves 
to  our  circumstances.  We  cannot  laugh  at  it  here,  as  we 
might  in  Europe.  But  be  more  prudent  in  the  future.  You 
have  weighted  yourself  with  the  religious  orders,  who,  from 
their  office  and  their  wealth,  must  be  respected.     I  protect 


138  An  Eagle  Flight 

you,  because  I  like  a  good  son.  By  heaven,  I  don't  know 
what  I  should  have  done  in  your  place! " 

Then,  quickly  changing  the  subject,  he  said: 

"  They  tell  me  you  have  just  returned  from  Europe.  You 
were  in  Madrid? " 

"  Yes,  senor,  several  months." 

"  How  happens  it  that  you  return  without  bringing  me  a 
letter  of  recommendation?  " 

"Senor,"  replied  Ibarra,  bowing,  "because,  having  heard 
there  of  the  character  of  Your  Excellency,  I  thought  a  letter 
of  recommendation  would  not  only  be  unnecessary,  but  might 
even  offend  you;  the  Filipinos  are  all  recommended  to  you." 

A  smile  curled  the  lips  of  the  old  soldier,  who  replied 
slowly,  as  though  meditating  and  weighing  his  words : 

"  I  cannot  help  ^being  flattered  that  you  think  so.  And 
yet,  young  man,  you  should  know  what  a  weight  rests  on  our 
shoulders.  Here  we  old  soldiers  have  to  be  all — king,  min- 
isters of  state,  of  war,  of  justice,  of  everything;  and  yet,  in 
every  event,  we  have  to  consult  the  far-off  mother  country, 
which  often  must  approve  or  reject  our  propositions  with 
blind  justice.  If  in  Spain  itself,  with  the  advantage  of 
everything  near  and  familiar,  all  is  imperfect  and  defective, 
the  wonder  is  that  all  here  is  not  revolution.  It  is  not  lack 
of  good  will  in  the  governors,  but  we  must  use  the  eyes  and 
arms  of  strangers,  of  whom,  for  the  most  part,  we  can  know 
nothing,  and  who,  instead  of  serving  their  country,  may  be 
serving  only  their  own  interests.  The  monks  are  a  power- 
ful aid,  but  they  are  not  sufficient.  You  inspire  great  in- 
terest in  me,  and  I  would  not  have  the  imperfection  of  our 
governmental  system  tell  in  anyway  against  you.  I  cannot 
watch  over  any  one ;  every  one  cannot  come  to  me.  Tell  me, 
can  I  be  useful  to  you  in  any  way  ?  Have  you  any  request 
to  make  ? " 

Ibarra  reflected. 


His  Excellency  139 

"  Senor,"  he  replied,  "  my  great  desire  is  for  the  happi- 
ness of  my  country,  and  I  would  that  happiness  might  be 
due  to  the  efforts  of  our  mother  country  and  of  my  fellow- 
citizens  united  to  her  and  united  among  themselves  by  the 
eternal  bonds  of  common  views  and  interests.  What  I 
would  ask,  the  Government  alone  can  give,  and  that  after 
many  continuous  years  of  labor  and  of  well-conceived  re- 
forms." 

The  general  gave  him  a  long  look,  which  Ibarra  bore  nat- 
urally, without  timidity,  without  boldness. 

"  You  are  the  first  man  with  whom  I've  spoken  in  this 
country,"  cried  His  Excellency,  stretching  out  his  hand. 

"Your  Excellency  has  seen  only  those  who  while  away 
their  lives  in  cities;  he  has  not  visited  the  falsely  maligned 
cabins  of  our  villages.  There  Your  Excellency  would  be 
able  to  see  veritable  men,  if  to  be  a  man  a  noble  heart  and 
simple  manners  are  enough." 

The  captain-general  rose  and  walked  up  and  down  the 
room. 

"Senor  Ibarra,"  he  said,  stopping  before  Crisdstomo, 
"  your  education  and  manner  of  thinking  are  not  for  this 
country.  Sell  what  you  own  and  come  with  me  when  I  go 
back  to  Europe;  the  climate  will  be  better  for  you," 

"  I  shall  remember  all  my  life  this  kindness  of  Your  Ex- 
cellency," replied  Ibarra,  moved;  "but  I  must  live  in  the 
country  where  my  parents  lived " 

"  Where  they  died,  you  would  say  more  justly.  Believe 
me,  I,  perhaps,  know  your  country  better  than  you  do  your- 
self. Ah,  but  I  forget!  You  are  to  marry  an  adorable  girl, 
and  I'm  keeping  you  from  her  all  this  time !  Go— go  to 
her!  And  that  you  may  have  more  freedom,  send  the  father 
to  me,"  he  added,  smiling.  "Don't  forget,  though,  that  I 
want  your  company  for  the  promenade." 

Ibarra  saluted,  and  went  out. 


140  An  Eagle  Flight 

The  general  called  his  aide-de-camp. 

"  I  am  pleased,"  said  he,  giving  him  a  light  tap  on  the 
shoulder ;  "  I  have  seen  to-day  for  the  first  time  how  one 
may  be  a  good  Spaniard  without  ceasing  to  be  a  good  Fili- 
pino.    What  a  pity  that  this  Ibarra  some  day  or  other 

but  call  the  alcalde." 

The  judge  at  once  presented  himself. 

"  Senor  alcalde,"  said  the  general,  "  to  avoid  a  repetition 
of  scenes  like  those  of  which  you  were  a  spectator  to-day — 
scenes,  I  deplore,  because  they  reflect  upon  the  Government 
and  upon  all  Spaniards — I  recommend  the  Serior  Ibarra  to 
your  utmost  care  and  consideration." 

The  alcalde  perceived  the  reprimand  and  lowered  his 
eyes. 

Captain  Tiago  presented  himself,  stiff  and  unnatural. 

"  Don  Santiago,"  the  general  said  affectionately,  "  a  mo- 
ment ago  I  congratulated  you  upon  having  a  daughter  like 
the  Senorita  de  los  Santos.  Now  I  make  you  my  compli- 
ments upon  your  future  son-in-law.  The  most  virtuous  of 
daughters  is  worthy  of  the  first  citizen  of  the  Philippines. 
May  I  know  the  day  of  the  wedding? " 

"  Senor "  stammered  Captain  Tiago,  wiping  drops  of 

sweat  from  his  brow. 

"  Then  nothing  is  settled,  I  see.  If  witnesses  are  lack- 
ing, it  will  give  me  the  greatest  pleasure  to  be  one  of 
them." 

"Yes,  senor,"  said  Captain  Tiago,  with  a  smile  to  stir 
compassion. 

Ibarra  had  gone  off  almost  running  to  find  Maria  Clara. 
He  had  so  much  to  talk  over  with  her.  Through  a  door  he 
heard  the  murmur  of  girls'  voices.     He  knocked. 

"Who  is  there?  "  asked  Maria. 

((  T    » 

The  voices  were  hushed,  but  the  door  did  not  open. 


His  Excellency  141 

"It's  I.  May  I  come  in?"  demanded  Crisdstomo,  his 
heart  beginning  to  beat  violently. 

The  silence  continued.  After  some  moments,  light  foot- 
steps approached  the  door,  and  the  voice  of  Sinang  said 
through  the  keyhole: 

"  Crisdstomo,  we're  going  to  the  theatre  to-night.  Write 
what  you  have  to  say  to  Maria  Clara." 

"  What  does  that  mean  ? "  said  Ibarra  to  himself  as  he 
slowly  left  the  door. 


XXXII. 

THE    PROCESSION. 

That  evening,  in  the  light  of  countless  lanterns,  to  the 
sound  of  bells  and  of  continuous  detonations,  the  procession 
started  for  the  fourth  time. 

The  captain-general,  who  had  set  out  on  foot,  accom- 
panied by  his  two  aides-de-camp,  Captain  Tiago,  the  al- 
calde, the  alfdrez,  and  Ibarra,  and  preceded  by  the  guards, 
to  open  a  passage,  was  to  view  the  procession  from  the  house 
of  the  gobernadorcillo.  This  functionary  had  built  a  plat- 
form for  the  recitation  of  a  loa,  a  religious  poem  in  honor 
of  the  patron  saint. 

Ibarra  would  gladly  have  renounced  the  hearing  of  this 
composition,  but  His  Excellency  had  ordered  his  attend- 
ance, and  Crisdstomo  must  console  himself  with  the  thought 
of  seeing  his  fiancde  at  the  theatre. 

The  procession  began  by  the  march  of  the  silver  cande- 
labra, borne  by  three  sacristans.  Then  came  the  school 
children  and  their  master,  then  other  children,  all  with  paper 
lanterns,  shaped  and  ornamented  according  to  the  taste  of 
each  child — for  each  was  his  own  lantern-maker — hoisted 
on  bamboo  poles  of  various  lengths  and  lighted  by  bits  of 
candles.  An  efBgy  of  St.  John  the  Baptist  followed,  borne 
on  a  litter,  and  then  came  St.  Francis,  surrounded  by  crys- 
tal lamps.  A  band  follov/ed,  and  then  the  standard  of  the 
saint,  borne  by  the  brothers  of  the  Third  Order,  praying 
aloud  in  a  sort  of  lamentation.  San  Diego  came  next,  his 
car  drawn  by  six  brothers  of  the  Third  Order,  probably  ful- 


The  Procession  143 

filling  some  vow.  St.  Mary  Magdalen  followed  him,  a 
beautiful  image  with  splendid  hair,  wearing  a  costume  of 
silk  spangled  with  gold,  and  holding  a  handkerchief  of  em- 
broidered pina  in  her  jewelled  hands.  Lights  and  incense 
surrounded  her,  and  her  glass  tears  reflected  the  varied  col- 
ors of  Bengal  lights.  St.  John  the  Baptist  moved  far  ahead, 
as  if  ashamed  of  his  camel's  hair  beside  all  this  gold  and 
glitter. 

After  the  Magdalen  came  the  women  of  the  order,  the 
elder  first,  so  that  the  young  girls  should  surround  the  car 
of  the  Virgin;  behind  them  was  the  curate  under  his  dais. 
The  car  of  the  Virgin  was  preceded  by  men  dressed  as  phan- 
toms, to  the  great  terror  of  the  children;  the  women  wore 
habits  like  those  of  religious  orders.  In  the  midst  of  this 
obscure  mass  of  robes  and  cowls  and  cordons  one  saw,  like 
dainty  jasmines,  like  fresh  sampages  amid  old  rags,  twelve 
little  girls  in  white,  their  hair  free.  Their  eyes  shone  like 
their  necklaces.  One  might  have  thought  them  little  genii 
of  the  light  taken  prisoner  by  spectres.  By  two  wide  blue 
ribbons  they  were  attached  to  the  car  of  the  Virgin,  like 
the  doves  which  draw  the  car  of  Spring. 

At  the  gobernadorcillo's  the  procession  stopped,  all  the 
images  and  their  attendants  were  drawn  up  around  the  plat- 
form, and  all  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  half-open  curtain.  At 
length  it  parted,  and  a  young  man  appeared,  winged,  booted 
like  a  cavalier,  with  sash  and  belt  and  plumed  hat,  and  in 
Latin,  Castilian,  and  Tagal  recited  a  poem  as  extraordinary 
as  his  attire.  The  verses  ended,  St.  John  pursued  his  bit- 
ter way. 

At  the  moment  when  the  figure  of  the  Virgin  passed  the 
house  of  Captain  Tiago,  a  celestial  song  greeted  it.  It  was 
a  voice,  sweet  and  tender,  almost  weeping  out  the  Gounod 
"  Ave  Maria."  The  music  of  the  procession  died  away,  the 
prayers  ceased.     Father    Salvi  himself  stood  still.    The 


144  A^  Eagle  Flight 

voice  trembled ;  it  drew  tears;  it  was  more  than  a  saluta- 
tion: it  was  a  supplication  and  a  complaint. 

Ibarra  heard,  and  fear  and  darkness  entered  his  heart. 
He  felt  the  suffering  in  the  voice  and  dared  not  ask  himself 
whence  it  came. 

The  captain-general  was  speaking  to  him. 

"  I  should  like  your  company  at  table.  We  will  talk  to 
those  children  who  have  disappeared,"  he  said. 

Crisdstomo,  looking  at  the  general  without  seeing  him, 
asked  himself  under  his  breath:  "Can  I  be  the  cause?" 
And  he  followed  the  governor  mechanically. 


XXXIII. 

DONA  CONSOLACION. 

Why  were  the  windows  of  the  house  of  the  alf^rez  not 
only  without  lanterns,  but  shuttered?  Where,  when  the  pro- 
cession passed,  were  the  masculine  head  with  its  great  veins 
and  purple  lips,  the  flannel  shirt,  and  the  big  cigar  of  the 
"Muse  of  the  Municipal  Guard"  ? 

The  house  was  sad,  as  Sinang  said,  because  the  people 
were  gay.  Had  not  a  sentinel  paced  as  usual  before  the 
door  one  might  have  thought  the  place  uninhabited. 

A  feeble  light  showed  the  disorder  of  the  room,  where 
the  alf^reza  was  sitting,  and  pierced  the  dusty  and  spider- 
webbed  conches  of  the  windows.  The  dame,  according  to 
her  idle  custom,  was  dozing  in  a  fauteuil.  To  deaden  the 
sound  of  the  bombs,  she  had  coifed  her  head  in  a  handker- 
chief, from  which  escaped  her  tangled  hair,  short  and  thin. 
This  morning  she  had  not  been  to  mass,  not  because  she  did 
not  wish  it,  but  because  her  husband  had  not  permitted  it, 
accompanying  his  prohibition  with  oaths  and  threats  of 
blows.  Dona  Consolacion  was  now  dreaming  of  revenge. 
She  bestirred  herself  at  last  and  ran  over  the  house  from  one 
end  to  the  other,  her  dark  face  disquieting  to  look  at.  A 
spark  flashed  from  her  eyes  like  that  from  the  pupil  of  a  ser- 
pent trapped  and  about  to  be  crushed.  It  was  cold,  luminous, 
penetrating;  it  was  viscous,  cruel,  repulsive.  The  smallest 
error  on  the  part  of  a  servant,  the  least  noise,  drew  forth 
words  injurious  enough  to  smirch  the  soul ;  but  nobody  re- 
plied; to  offer  excuse  would  have  been  to  commit  another 
crime. 


146  An  Eagle  Flight 

In  this  way  the  day  passed.  Meeting  no  opposition — her 
husband  had  been  invited  to  the  gobernadorcillo's — she 
stored  up  spleen ;  the  cells  of  her  organism  seemed  slowly 
charging  with  electric  force,  which  burst  out,  later  on,  in  a 
tempest. 

Sisa  had  been  in  the  barracks  since  her  arrest  the  day 
before.  The  alfdrez,  fearing  she  might  become  the  sport  of 
the  crowd,  had  ordered  her  to  be  kept  until  the  f6te  was 
over. 

This  evening,  whether  she  had  heard  the  song  of  Maria 
Clara,  whether  the  bands  had  recalled  airs  that  she  knew, 
for  some  reason  she  began  to  chant,  in  her  sympathetic 
voice,  the  songs  of  her  youth.  The  soldiers  heard  and  be- 
came still;  they  knew  these  airs,  had  sung  them  themselves 
when  they  were  young  and  free  and  innocent.  Dona  Con- 
solacion  heard,  too,  and  inquired  for  the  singer. 

"  Have  her  come  up  at  once,"  she  said,  after  a  moment's 
reflection,  something  like  a  smile  flickering  on  her  dry  lips. 

The  soldiers  brought  Sisa,  who  came  without  fear  or  ques- 
tion. When  she  entered  she  seemed  to  see  no  one,  which 
wounded  the  vanity  of  the  dreadful  muse.  Dona  Consola- 
cion  coughed,  motioned  the  soldiers  to  withdraw,  and,  tak- 
ing down  her  husband's  riding  whip,  said  in  a  sinister  voice : 

"  Vamos,  magcanter  icau !  " 

It  was  an  order  to  sing,  in  a  mixture  of  Castilian  and 
Tagalo.  Dona  Consolacion  affected  ignorance  of  her  native 
tongue,  thinking  thus  to  give  herself  the  air  of  a  veritable 
Orofea,  as  she  said  in  her  attempt  at  Europea.  For  if  she 
martyred  the  Tagalo,  she  treated  Castilian  worse,  though  her 
husband,  and  chairs  and  shoes,  had  contributed  to  giving 
her  lessons. 

Sisa  had  been  happy  enough  not  to  understand.  The 
forehead  of  the  shrew  unknotted  a  bit,  and  a  look  of  satis- 
faction animated  her  face. 


Dona  Consolacion  147 

"Tell  this  woman  to  sing!"  she  said  to  the  orderly. 
"  She  doesn't  understand;  she  doesn't  know  Spanish!  " 

The  orderly  spoke  to  Sisa,  and  she  began  at  once  the 
"  Night  Song." 

At  first  Dona  Consolacion  listened  with  a  mocking  smile, 
but  little  by  little  it  left  her  lips.  She  became  attentive, 
then  serious.  Her  dry  and  withered  heart  received  the  rain. 
"  The  sadness,  the  cold,  the  dew  come  down  from  the  sky  in 
the  mantle  of  the  night,"  seemed  to  fall  upon  her  heart;  she 
understood  "  the  flower,  full  of  vanity,  and  prodigal  with  its 
splendors  in  the  sun,  now,  at  the  fall  of  day,  withered  and 
stained,  repentant  and  disillusioned,  trying  to  raise  its  poor 
petals  toward  heaven,  begging  a  shade  to  hide  it  from  the 
mockery  of  the  sun,  who  had  seen  it  in  its  pomp,  and  was 
laughing  at  the  impotence  of  its  pride;  begging  also  a  drop 
of  dew  to  be  let  fall  upon  it." 

"No!  Stop  singing!"  she  cried  in  perfect  Tagal. 
"  Stop !     These  verses  bore  me !  " 

Sisa  stopped.  The  orderly  thought:  "Ah, she  knows  the 
Tagal!  "     And  he  regarded  his  mistress  with  admiration. 

She  saw  she  had  betrayed  herself,  became  ashamed,  and 
shame  in  her  unfeminine  nature  meant  rage.  She  showed 
the  door  to  the  imprudent  orderly,  and  shut  it  behind  him 
with  a  blow.  Then  she  took  several  turns  around  the  room, 
wringing  the  whip  in  her  nervous  hands.  At  last,  planting 
herself  before  Sisa,  she  said  to  her  in  Spanish :  "  Dance !  " 

Sisa  did  not  move. 

"Dance!  Dance!  "  she  repeated  in  a  threatening  voice. 
The  poor  thing  looked  at  her  with  vacant  eyes.  The  vixen 
took  hold  of  one  of  her  arms  and  then  the  other,  raising  them 
and  swaying' them  about.  It  was  of  no  use.  Sisa  did  not 
understand. 

In  vain  Dona  Consolacion  began  to  leap  about,  making 
signs  for  Sisa  to  imitate  her.  In  the  distance  a  band  was 
II 


148  An  Eagle  Flight 

playing  a  slow  and  majestic  march;  but  the  creature  leaped 
furiously  to  another  measure,  beating  within  herself.  Sisa 
looked  on,  motionless.  A  faint  curiosity  rose  in  her  eyes, 
a  feeble  smile  moved  her  pale  lips;  the  alfereza's  dance 
pleased  her. 

The  dancer  stopped,  as  if  ashamed,  and  raised  the  ter- 
rible whip,  well  known  to  thieves  and  soldiers. 

"  Now,"  said  she,  "  it's  your  turn !  Dance !  "  And  she 
began  to  give  light  taps  to  the  bare  feet  of  bewildered  Sisa, 
whose  face  contracted  with  pain ;  the  poor  thing  tried  to 
ward  off  the  blows  with  her  hands. 

"Ah!  You're  beginning,  are  you?"  cried  Dona  Conso- 
lacion,  with  savage  joy,  and  from  lente,  she  passed  to  allegro 
vivace. 

Sisa  cried  out  and  drew  up  first  one  foot  and  then  the 
other. 

"Will  you  dance,  accursed  Indian!"  and  the  whip 
whistled. 

Sisa  let  herself  fall  to  the  floor,  trying  to  cover  her  feet, 
and  looking  at  her  tormenter  with  haggard  eyes.  Two 
lashes  on  the  shoulders  forced  her  to  rise  with  screams. 

Her  thin  chemise  was  torn,  the  skin  broken  and  the  blood 
flowing. 

This  excited  Dona  Consolacion  still  more. 

"Dance!  Dance!"  she  howled,  and  seizing  Sisa  with 
one  hand,  while  she  beat  her  with  the  other,  she  commenced 
to  leap  about  again. 

At  length  Sisa  understood,  and  followed,  moving  her  arms 
without  rhythm  or  measure.  A  smile  of  satisfaction  came 
to  the  lips  of  the  horrible  woman — the  smile  of  a  female 
Mephistopheles  who  has  found  an  apt  pupil:  hate,  scorn, 
mockery,  and  cruelty  were  in  it;  a  burst  of  demoniacal 
laughter  could  not  have  said  more. 

Absorbed  by  her  delight  in  this  spectacle,  the  alf^reza  did 


Dona  Consolacion  149 

not  know  that  her  husband  had  arrived  until  the  door  was 
violently  thrown  open  with  a  kick. 

The  alfe'rez  was  pale  and  morose.  When  he  saw  what 
was  going  on,  he  darted  a  terrible  glance  at  his  wife,  then 
quietly  put  his  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the  strange  dancer, 
and  stopped  her  motion.  Sisa,  breathing  hard,  sat  down  on 
the  floor.     He  called  the  orderly. 

"  Take  this  woman  away,"  he  said;  "  see  that  she  is  prop- 
erly cared  for,  and  has  a  good  dinner  and  a  good  bed.  To- 
morrow she  is  to  be  taken  to  Senor  Ibarra's." 

Then  he  carefully  closed  the  door  after  them,  pushed  the 
.bolt,  and  approached  his  wife. 


XXXIV. 

RIGHT   AND    MIGHT. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening.  The  first  rockets  were 
slowly  going  up  in  the  dark  sky,  where  bright-colored  bal- 
loons shone  like  new  stars.  On  the  ridge-poles  of  the 
houses  men  were  seen  armed  with  bamboo  poles,  with  pails 
of  water  at  hand.  Their  dark  silhouettes  against  the  clear 
gray  of  the  night  seemed  phantoms  come  to  share  in  the 
gayety  of  men.  They  were  there  to  look  out  for  balloons 
that  might  fall  burning. 

Crowds  of  people  were  going  toward  the  plaza  to  see  the 
last  play  at  the  theatre.  Bengal  fires  burned  here  and  there, 
grouping  the  merry-makers  fantastically. 

The  grand  estradewas  magnificently  illuminated.  Thou- 
sands of  lights  were  fixed  round  the  pillars,  hung  from  the 
roof  and  clustered  near  the  ground. 

In  front  of  the  stage  the  orchestra  was  tuning  its  instru- 
ments. The  dignitaries  of  the  pueblo,  the  Spaniards,  and 
wealthy  strangers  occupied  seats  in  rows.  The  people  filled 
the  rest  of  the  place ;  some  had  brought  benches,  rather  to 
mount  them  than  to  sit  on  them,  and  others  noisily  protested 
against  this. 

Comings  and  goings,  cries,  exclamations,  bursts  of  laugh- 
ter, jokes,  a  whistle,  swelled  the  tumult.  Here  the  leg  of  a 
bench  gave  way  and  precipitated  those  on  it,  to  the  delight 
of  the  spectators;  there  was  a  dispute  for  place;  and  a  lit- 
tle beyond  a  fracas  of  glasses  and  bottles.  It  was  Andeng, 
carrying  a  great  tray  of  drinks,  and  unfortunately  she  had 


Right  and  Might  151 

encountered  her  fiancd,  who  was  disposed  to  profit  by  the 
occasion. 

The  lieutenant,  Don  Filipo,  was  in  charge  of  the  specta- 
cle, for  the  gobernadorcillo  was  playing  monte,  of  which  he 
was  a  passionate  devotee.  Don  Filipo  was  talking  with  old 
Tasio,  who  was  on  the  point  of  leaving. 
"Aren't  you  going  to  see  the  play?  " 
"  No,  thank  you !  My  own  mind  suffices  for  rambling  and 
dreaming,"  replied  the  philosopher,  laughing.  "  But  I  have 
a  question  to  propose.  Have  you  ever  observed  the  strange 
nature  of  our  people?  Pacific,  they  love  warlike  spectacles; 
democratic,  they  adore  emperors,  kings,  and  princes;  irre- 
ligious, they  ruin  themselves  in  the  pomps  of  the  ritual;  the 
nature  of  our  women  is  gentle,  but  they  have  deliriums  of 
delight  when  a  princess  brandishes  a  lance.  Do  you  know 
the  cause  of  all  this?     Well " 

The  arrival  of  Maria  Clara  and  her  friends  cut  short  the 
conversation.  Don  Filipo  accompanied  them  to  their  places. 
Then  came  the  curate,  with  his  usual  retinue. 

The  evening  began  with  Chananay  and  Marianito  in 
"  Crispino  and  the  Gossip."  The  scene  fixed  the  attention 
of  every  one.  The  act  was  ending  when  Ibarra  entered. 
His  coming  excited  a  murmur,  and  eyes  turned  from  him  to 
the  curate.  But  Crisdstomo  observed  nothing.  He  grace- 
fully saluted  Maria  and  her  friends  and  sat  down.  The 
only  one  who  spoke  to  him  was  Sinang. 

"  Have  you  been  watching  the  fireworks?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,  little  friend,  I  had  to  accompany  the  governor-gen- 
eral." 

"That  was  too  bad!" 

Brother  Salvi  had  risen,  gone  to  Don  Filipo,  and  appeared 
to  be  having  with  him  a  serious  discussion.  He  spoke  with 
heat,  the  lieutenant  calmly  and  quietly. 

"  I  am  sorry  not  to  be  able  to  satisfy  your  reverence,  but 


152  An  Eagle  Flight 

Senor  Ibarra  is  one  of  the  chief  contributors  to  the  fete,  and 
has  a  perfect  right  to  be  here  so  long  as  he  creates  no  dis- 
turbance." 

"  But  is  it  not  creating  a  disturbance  to  scandalize  all 
good  Christians  ? " 

"Father,"  replied  Don  Filipo,  "my  slight  authority  does 
not  permit  me  to  interfere  in  religious  matters.  Let  those 
who  fear  Senor  Ibarra's  contact  avoid  him :  he  forces  himself 
upon  no  one;  the  senor  alcalde  and  the  captain -general 
have  been  in  his  company  all  the  afternoon;  it  hardly  be- 
comes me  to  give  them  a  lesson." 

"If  you  do  not  put  him  out  of  the  place,  we  shall 
go." 

"  I  should  be  very  sorry,  but  I  have  no  authority  to  remove 
him." 

The  curate  repented  of  his  threat,  but  there  was  now  no 
remedy.  He  motioned  to  his  companions,  who  rose  reluct- 
antly, and  all  went  out,  not  without  hostile  glances  toward 
Ibarra. 

The  whisperings  and  murmurs  began  again.  Several  peo- 
ple came  up  to  Crisdstomo  and  said : 

"  We  are  with  you ;  pay  no  attention  to  them ! " 

"To  whom?  "  he  asked  in  astonishment. 

"  Those  who  have  gone  out  because  you  are  here ;  they 
say  you  are  excommunicated." 

Ibarra,  surprised,  not  knowing  what  to  say,  looked  about 
him.     Maria's  face  was  hidden. 

"Is  it  possible?  Are  we  yet  in  the  middle  ages?"  he 
began.     But  he  checked  himself  and  said  to  the  girls: 

"I  must  excuse  myself;  I  will  be  back  to  go  home  with 
you." 

"  Oh,  stay !  "  said  Sinang.     "  Yeyeng  is  going  to  dance !  " 

"  I  cannot,  little  friend." 

While  Yeyeng  was  coming  forward,  two  soldiers  of  the 


Right  and  Might  153 

guard  approached  Don  Filipo  and  demanded  that  the  repre- 
sentation be  stopped. 

"  And  why  ?  "  he  asked  in  surprise. 

"Because  the  alf^rez  and  his  wife  have  been  fighting; 
they  want  to  sleep." 

"  Tell  the  alfdrez  we  have  the  permission  of  the  alcalde 
of  the  province,  and  nobody  in  the  pueblo  can  overrule  that, 
not  even  the  gobernadorcillo." 

"  But  we  have  our  orders  to  stop  the  performance." 

Don  Filipo  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  turned  his  back. 
The  Comedy  Company  of  Tondo  was  about  to  give  a  play, 
and  the  audience  was  settling  for  its  enjoyment. 

The  Filipino  is  passionately  fond  of  the  theatre;  he  lis- 
tens in  silence,  never  hisses,  and  applauds  with  measure. 
Does  not  the  spectacle  please  him  ?  He  chews  his  buyo  and 
goes  out  quietly,  not  to  trouble  those  who  may  like  it.  He 
expects  in  his  plays  a  combat  every  fifteen  seconds,  and  all 
the  rest  of  the  time  repartee  between  comic  personages,  or 
terrifying  metamorphoses.  The  comedy  chosen  for  this  fete 
was  "Prince  Villardo,  or  the  Nails  Drawn  from  the  Cellar 
of  Infamy,"  comedy  with  sorcery  and  fireworks. 

Prince  Villardo  presented  himself,  defying  the  Moors, 
who  held  his  father  prisoner.  He  threatened  to  cut  off  all 
their  heads  at  a  single  stroke  and  send  them  into  the 
moon. 

Fortunately  for  the  Moors,  as  they  were  preparing  for  the 
combat,  a  tumult  arose.  The  music  stopped,  and  the  musi- 
cians assailed  the  theatre  with  their  instruments,  which  went 
flying  in  all  directions.  The  valiant  Villardo,  unprepared 
for  so  many  foes,  threw  down  his  sword  and  buckler  and 
took  to  flight,  and  the  Moors,  seeing  the  hasty  leave  of  so 
terrible  a  Christian,  made  bold  to  follow  him.  Cries,  ex- 
clamations, and  imprecations  rose  on  all  sides,  people  ran 
against  one  another,  lights  went  out,  children  screamed,  and 


154  An  Eagle  Flight 

benches  were  overturned  in  a  hurly-burly.  Some  cried  fire, 
some  cried  "  The  tulisanes!  " 

What  had  happened  ?  The  two  guards  had  driven  off  the 
musicians,  and  the  lieutenant  and  some  of  the  cuadrilleros 
were  vainly  trying  to  check  their  flight. 

"  Take  those  two  men  to  the  tribunal !  "  cried  Don  Filipo. 
"  Don't  let  them  escape!  " 

When  the  crowd  had  recovered  from  its  fright  and  taken 
account  of  what  had  happened,  indignation  broke  forth. 

"  That's  why  they  are  for !  "  cried  a  woman,  brandishing 
her  arms;  "  to  trouble  the  pueblo!  They  are  the  real  tuli- 
sanes !     Fire  the  barracks !  " 

Stones  rained  on  the  group  of  cuadrilleros  leading  off  the 
guards,  and  the  cry  to  fire  the  barracks  was  repeated.  Cha- 
nanay  in  her  costume  of  Leonora  in  "II  Trovatore"  was 
talking  with  Ratia,  in  schoolmaster's  dress ;  Yeyeng,  wrapped 
in  a  shawl,  was  attended  by  Prince  Villardo,  while  the 
Moors  tried  to  console  the  mortified  musicians ;  but  already 
the  crowd  had  determined  upon  action,  and  Don  Filipo  was 
doing  his  best  to  hold  them  in  check. 

"  Do  nothing  rash !  "  he  cried.  "  To-morrow  we  will  de- 
mand satisfaction ;  we  shall  have  justice ;  I  promise  you  jus- 
tice!" 

"No,"  replied  some;  "that's  what  they  did  at  Calamba: 
they  promised  justice,  and  the  alcalde  didn't  do  a  thing! 
We  will  take  justice  for  ourselves!     To  the  barracks!  " 

Don  Filipo,  looking  about  for  some  one  to  aid  him,  saw 
Ibarra. 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  Senor  Ibarra,  keep  the  people  here 
while  I  go  for  the  cuadrilleros!  " 

"  What  can  I  do  ? "  demanded  the  perplexed  young  fel- 
low; but  Don  Filipo  was  already  in  the  distance. 

Ibarra,  in  his  turn,  looked  about  for  aid,  and  saw  Elias. 
He  ran  to  him,  took  him  by  the  arm,  and,  speaking  in  Span- 


Right  and  Might  155 

ish,  begged  him  to  do  what  he  could  for  order.  The  helms- 
man disappeared  in  the  crowd.  Animated  discussions  were 
heard,  and  rapid  questions;  then,  little  by  little,  the  mass 
began  to  dissolve  and  to  wear  a  less  hostile  attitude.  It 
was  time ;  the  soldiers  arrived  with  bayonets  fixed. 

As  Ibarra  was  about  to  enter  his  house  that  night  a  little 
man  in  mourning,  having  a  great  scar  on  his  left  cheek, 
placed  himself  in  front  of  him  and  bowed  humbly. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  "  asked  Crisdstomo. 

"  Senor,  my  name  is  Jos6 ;  I  am  the  brother  of  the  man 
killed  this  morning." 

"  Ah,"  said  Ibarra,  "  I  assure  you  I  am  not  insensible  to 
your  loss.     What  do  you  wish  of  me  ?  " 

"  Senor,  I  wish  to  know  how  much  you  are  going  to  pay 
my  brother's  family." 

"  Pay !  "  repeated  Crisdstomo,  not  without  annoyance. 
"We  will  talk  of  this  again;  come  to  me  to-morrow." 

"But  tell  me  simply  what  you  will  give,"  insisted  Jos^. 

"  I  tell  you  we  will  talk  of  it  another  day,  not  now,"  said 
Ibarra,  more  impatiently. 

"  Ah !     You  think  because  we  are  poor " 

Ibarra  interrupted  him. 

"  Don't  try  my  patience  too  far,"  he  said,  moving  on. 
Josd  looked  after  him  with  a  smile  full  of  hatred, 

"  It  is  easy  to  see  he  is  a  grandson  of  the  man  who  ex- 
posed my  father  to  the  sun,"  he  murmured  between  his  teeth. 
"The  same  blood!"  Then  in  a  changed  tone  he  added: 
"  But  if  you  pay  well— friends ! " 


XXXV. 

HUSBAND   AND   WIFE. 

The  fete  was  over,  and  the  inhabitants  of  the  pueblo  now 
perceived,  as  they  did  every  year,  that  their  purses  were 
empty,  that  in  the  sweat  of  their  faces  they  had  earned  scant 
pleasure,  and  paid  dear  for  noise  and  headaches.  But  what 
of  that  ?  The  next  year  they  would  begin  again ;  the  next 
century  it  would  still  be  the  same,  for  it  had  been  so  up  to 
this  time,  and  there  is  nothing  which  can  make  people  re- 
nounce a  custom. 

The  house  of  Captain  Tiago  is  sad.  All  the  windows  are 
closed ;  one  scarcely  dares  make  a  sound ;  and  nowhere  but 
in  the  kitchen  do  they  speak  aloud.  Maria  Clara,  the  soul 
of  the  house,  is  sick  in  bed.  The  state  of  her  health  could 
be  read  on  all  faces,  as  our  actions  betray  the  griefs  of  our 
hearts. 

"  What  do  you  think,  Isabel,  ought  I  to  make  a  gift  to  the 
cross  at  Tunasan,  or  that  at  Matahong?  "  asks  the  unhappy 
father.  "  The  cross  at  Tunasan  grows,  but  that  at  Matahong 
perspires.     Which  do  you  call  the  more  miraculous?  " 

Aunt  Isabel  reflected,  nodded  her  head,  and  whispered: 

"To  grow  is  more  miraculous;  we  all  perspire,  but  we 
don't  all  grow." 

"That's  so,  yes,  Isabel;  but,  after  all,  for  wood  to  per- 
spire— well,  then,  the  best  thing  is  to  make  offerings  to 
both." 

A  carriage  stopping  before  the  house  cut  short  the  conver- 
sation.    Captain  Tiago,  followed  by  Aunt  Isabel,  ran  down 


Husband  and  Wife  icy 

the  steps  to  receive  the  coming  guests.  They  were  the  doc- 
tor, Don  Tiburcio  de  Espadana,  his  wife,  the  Doctora  Dona 
Victorina  de  Los  Reyes  de  de  Espadana,  and  a  young  Span- 
iard of  attractive  face  and  fine  appearance. 

The  doctora  wore  a  silk  dress  bordered  with  flowers,  and 
a  hat  with  a  large  parrot  perched  among  bows  of  red  and 
blue  ribbons.  The  dust  of  the  journey  mingling  with  the 
rice  powder  on  her  cheeks,  exaggerated  her  wrinkles;  as 
when  we  saw  her  at  Manila,  she  had  given  her  arm  to  her 
lame  husband. 

"  I  have  the  pleasure  of  presenting  to  you  our  cousin,  Don 
Alfonso  Linares  de  Espadana,"  said  Dona  Victorina,  indi- 
cating the  young  man ;  "  the  adopted  son  of  a  relative  of 
Father  Damaso's,  and  private  secretary  of  all  the  minis- 
ters  " 

The  young  man  bowed  low ;  Captain  Tiago  barely  escaped 
kissing  his  hand. 

While  the  countless  trunks,  valises,  and  bags  are  being 
cared  for  and  Captain  Tiago  is  conducting  his  guests  to 
their  apartments,  let  us  make  a  nearer  acquaintance  with 
these  people  whom  we  have  not  seen  since  the  opening  chap- 
ters. 

Dona  Victorina  is  a  woman  of  forty-five  summers,  which, 
according  to  her  arithmetic,  are  equivalent  to  thirty-two 
springs.  In  her  youth  she  had  been  very  pretty,  but,  en- 
raptured in  her  own  contemplation,  she  had  looked  with  the 
utmost  disdain  on  her  numerous  Filipino  adorers,  even 
scorning  the  vows  of  love  once  murmured  in  her  ears  or 
chanted  under  her  balcony  by  Captain  Tiago.  Her  aspira- 
tions bore  her  toward  another  race. 

Her  first  youth,  then  her  second,  then  her  third,  having 
passed  in  tending  nets  to  catch  in  the  ocean  of  the  world  the 
object  of  her  dreams,  Dona  Victorina  must  in  the  end  con- 
tent herself  with  what  fate  willed  her.     It  was  a  poor  man 


158  An  Eagle  Flight 

torn  from  his  native  Estramadure,  who,  after  wandering  six 
or  seven  years  about  the  world,  a  modern  Ulysses,  found  at 
length,  in  the  island  of  Luzon,  hospitality,  money,  and  a 
faded  Calypso. 

Don  Tiburcio  was  a  modest  man,  without  force,  who  would 
not  willingly  have  injured  a  fly.  He  started  for  the  Philip- 
pines as  under-clerk  of  customs,  but  after  breaking  his  leg 
was  forced  to  give  up  his  position.  For  a  while  he  lived  at 
the  expense  of  some  compatriots,  but  he  found  their  bread 
bitter.  As  he  had  neither  profession  nor  money,  his  advis- 
ers counselled  him  to  go  into  the  provinces  and  offer  himself 
as  a  physician.  At  first  he  refused,  but,  necessity  becoming 
pressing,  his  friends  convinced  him  of  the  vanity  of  his 
scruples.  He  started  out,  kept  by  his  conscience  from  ask- 
ing more  than  small  fees,  and  was  on  the  road  to  prosperity 
when  a  jealous  doctor  called  him  to  the  attention  of  the  Col- 
lege of  Physicians  at  Manila.  Nothing  would  have  come  of 
it,  but  the  affair  reached  the  ears  of  the  people ;  loss  of  con- 
fidence followed,  and  then  loss  of  patrons.  Misery  again 
stared  him  in  the  face  when  he  heard  of  the  affliction  of 
Dona  Victorina.  Don  Tiburcio  saw  here  a  patch  of  blue 
sky,  and  asked  to  be  presented. 

They  met,  and  after  a  half-hour  of  conversation,  reached 
an  understanding.  Without  doubt  she  would  have  preferred 
a  Spaniard  less  halting,  less  bald,  without  impediment  of 
speech,  and  with  more  teeth;  but  such  a  Spaniard  had  never 
asked  her  hand,  and  at  thirty-two  what  woman  is  not  pru- 
dent? 

For  his  part,  Don  Tiburcio  resigned  himself  when  he  saw 
the  spectre  of  famine  raise  its  head.  Not  that  he  had  ever 
had  great  ambitions  or  great  pretensions;  but  his  heart, 
virgin  till  now,  had  pictured  a  different  divinity.  He  was, 
however,  somewhat  of  a  philosopher.  He  said  to  himself: 
*'  All  that  was  a  dream !     Is  the  reality  powdered  and  wrin- 


Husband  and  Wife  159 

kled,  homely  and  ridiculous?     Well,  I  am  bald  and  lame 
and  toothless." 

They  were  married  then,  and  Dona  Victorina  was  en- 
chanted with  her  husband.  She  had  him  fitted  out  with 
false  teeth,  attired  by  the  best  tailors  of  the  city,  and  ordered 
carriages  and  horses  for  the  professional  visits  she  intended 
him  again  to  make. 

While  thus  transforming  her  husband,  she  did  not  forget 
herself.  She  discarded  the  silk  skirt  and  jacket  of  pina  for 
European  costume,  loaded  her  head  with  false  hair,  and  her 
person  with  such  extravagances  generally  as  to  disturb  the 
peace  of  a  whole  idle  and  tranquil  neighborhood. 

The  glamour  around  the  husband  first  began  to  dim  when 
he  tried  to  approach  the  subject  of  the  rice  powder  by  re- 
marking that  nothing  is  so  ugly  as  the  false  or  so  admirable 
as  the  natural.  Dona  Victorina  looked  unpleasantly  at  his 
teeth,  and  he  was  silent.  Indeed,  at  the  end  of  a  very  short 
time  the  doctora  had  arrived  at  the  complete  subjugation  of 
her  husband,  who  no  longer  offered  any  more  resistance  than 
a  little  lap-dog.  If  he  did  anything  to  annoy  her,  she  for- 
bade his  going  out,  and  in  her  moments  of  greatest  rage  she 
tore  out  his  false  teeth,  and  left  him,  sometimes  for  days, 
horribly  disfigured. 

When  they  were  well  settled  in  Manila,  Rodoreda  received 
orders  to  engrave  on  a  plate  of  black  marble : 

"Dr.  De  Espadana, 
Specialist  in  All  Kinds  of  Diseases." 

"  Do  you  wish  me  to  be  put  in  prison  ? "  asked  Don 
Tiburcio  in  terror. 

"  I  wish  people  to  call  you  doctor  and  me  doctora,"  said 
Dona  Victorina,  "  but  it  must  be  understood  that  you  treat 
only  very  rare  cases." 


i6o  An  Eagle  Flight 

The  senora  signed  her  own  name,  Victorina  de  los  Reyes 
de  de  Espadana.  Neither  the  engraver  of  her  visiting  cards 
nor  her  husband  could  make  her  renounce  that  second  "  de." 

"  If  I  use  only  one  *  de,'  people  will  think  you  haven't 
any,  imbecile !  "  she  said  to  Don  Tiburcio. 

Then  the  number  of  gewgaws  grew,  the  layer  of  rice  pow- 
der was  thickened,  the  ribbons  and  laces  were  piled  higher, 
and  Dona  Victorina  regarded  with  more  and  more  disdain 
her  poor  compatriots  who  had  not  had  the  fortune  to  marry 
husbands  of  so  high  estate  as  her  own. 

All  this  sublimity,  however,  did  not  prevent  her  being 
each  day  older  and  more  ridiculous.  Every  time  Captain 
Tiago  was  with  her,  and  remembered  that  she  had  once 
really  inspired  him  with  love,  he  sent  a  peso  to  the  church 
for  a  mass  of  thanksgiving.  But  he  had  much  respect  for 
Don  Tiburcio,  because  of  his  title  of  specialist,  and  listened 
attentively  to  the  rare  sentences  the  doctor's  impediment  of 
speech  let  him  pronounce.  For  this  reason  and  because  the 
doctor  did  not  lavish  his  visits  on  people  at  large  he  had 
chosen  him  to  treat  Maria. 

As  to  young  Linares,  Dona  Victorina,  wishing  a  steward 
from  the  peninsula,  her  husband  remembered  a  cousin  of 
his,  a  law  student  at  Madrid,  who  was  considered  the  most 
astute  of  the  family.  They  sent  for  him,  and  the  young 
man  had  just  arrived. 

Father  Salvi  entered  while  Don  Santiago  and  his  guests 
were  at  the  second  breakfast.  They  talked  of  Maria  Clara, 
who  was  sleeping;  they  talked  of  the  journey,  and  Dona 
Victorina  exclaimed  loudly  at  the  costumes  of  the  provin- 
cials, their  houses  of  nipa,  and  their  bamboo  bridges.  She 
did  not  omit  to  inform  the  curate  of  her  friendly  relations 
with  the  "  Segundo  Cabo,"  with  this  alcalde,  with  that  coun- 
cillor, all  people  of  distinction,  who  had  for  her  the  greatest 
consideration. 


Husband  and  Wife  i6i 

"If  you  had  come  two  days  earlier,  Dona  Victorina,"  said 
Captain  Tiago,  profiting  by  a  slight  pause  in  the  lady's  bril- 
liant loquacity,  "you  would  have  found  His  Excellency  the 
governor  general  seated  in  this  very  place." 

"  What !  His  Excellency  was  here  ?  And  at  your  house  ? 
Impossible! " 

"  I  repeat  that  he  was  seated  exactly  here.  If  you  had 
come  two  days  ago " 

"Ah!  What  a  pity  Clarita  did  not  fall  ill  sooner!  "  she 
cried.  "You  hear,  cousin!  His  Excellency  was  here! 
You  know,  Don  Santiago,  that  at  Madrid  our  cousin  was  the 
friend  of  ministers  and  dukes,  and  that  he  dined  with  the 
Count  del  Campanario." 

"  The  Duke  de  la  Torre,  Victorina,"  suggested  her  hus- 
band. 

"  It  is  the  same  thing !  " 

"Shall  I  find  Father  Damaso  at  his  pueblo  to-day?" 
Linares  asked  Brother  Salvi. 

"  Father  Damaso  is  here,  and  may  be  with  us  at  any  mo- 
ment." 

"  I'm  very  glad !  I  have  a  letter  for  him,  and  if  a  happy 
chance  had  not  brought  me  here,  I  should  have  come  ex- 
pressly to  see  him." 

Meanwhile  the  "happy  chance,"  that  is  to  say,  poor  Maria 
Clara,  had  awakened. 

"  Come,  de  Espanada,  come,  see  Clarita,"  said  Dona  Vic- 
torina. "It  is  for  you  he  does  this,"  she  went  on,  turning 
to  Captain  Tiago ;  "  my  husband  attends  only  people  of 
quality." 

The    sick-room  was   almost  in  obscurity,  the  windows 

closed, for  fear  of  draughts;  two  candles,  burning  before  an 

image  of  the  Virgin  of  Antipolo,  sent  out  feeble  glimmers. 

Enveloped  in  multiple  folds  of  white,  the  lovely  figure  of 

Maria  lay  on  her  bed  of  kamagon,  behind  curtains  of  jusi 


i62  An  Eagle  Flight 

and  pina.  Her  abundant  hair  about  her  face  increased  its 
transparent  pallor,  as  did  the  radiance  of  her  great,  sad  eyes. 
Beside  her  were  her  two  friends,  and  Andeng  holding  a  lily 
branch. 

De  Espadana  felt  her  pulse,  examined  her  tongue,  asked 
a  question  or  two,  and  nodded  his  head. 

Sh — she  is  s — sick,  but  she  can  be  c — cured." 

Dona  Victorina  looked  proudly  at  their  audience. 

Lichen  with  m — m — milk,  for  the  m — m — morning,  syrup 
of  m — m — marshmallow,  and  two  tablets  of  cynoglossum." 

"  Take  courage,  Clarita,"  said  Dona  Victorina,  approach- 
ing the  bed,  '"  we  have  come  to  cure  you.  I'm  going  to  pre- 
sent to  you  our  cousin." 

Linares,  absorbed,  was  gazing  at  those  eloquent  eyes, 
which  seemed  to  be  searching  for  some  one;  he  did  not 
hear  Dona  Victorina. 

"  Senor  Linares,"  said  the  curate,  drawing  him  out  of  his 
abstraction,  "  here  is  Father  Damaso." 

It  was  indeed  he ;  but  it  was  not  the  Father  Damaso  of 
heretofore,  so  vigorous  and  alert.  He  walked  uncertainly, 
and  he  was  pale  and  sad. 


XXXVI. 

PROJECTS. 

With  no  word  for  any  one  else,  Father  Damaso  went 
straight  to  Maria's  bed  and  took  her  hand. 

"  Maria,"  he  said  with  great  tenderness,  and  tears  gushed 
from  his  eyes,  "Maria,  my  child,  you  must  not  die!  " 

Maria  Clara  looked  at  hira  with  some  astonishment.  No 
one  of  those  who  knew  the  Franciscan  would  have  believed 
him  capable  of  such  display  of  feeling. 

He  could  not  say  another  word,  but  moved  aside  the  drap- 
eries and  went  out  among  the  plants  of  Maria's  balcony,  cry- 
ing like  a  child. 

"  How  he  loves  his  god-daughter! "  every  one  thought. 

Father  Salvi,  motionless  and  silent,  watched  him  intently. 

When  the  father's  grief  seemed  more  controlled,  Dona 
Victorino  presented  young  Linares.  Father  Ddmaso,  say- 
ing nothing,  looked  him  over  from  head  to  foot,  took  the 
letter,  read  it  without  appearing  to  comprehend,  and  asked : 

"Well,  who  are  you?" 

"  Alfonso  Linares,  the  godson  of  your  brother-in-law " 

stammered  the  young  fellow.     Father  Damaso  threw  back 
his  head  and  examined  him  anew,  his  face  clearing. 

"  What !  It's  the  godson  of  Carlicos !  "  he  cried,  clasping 
him  in  his  arms.  "  I  had  a  letter  from  him  some  days  ago. 
And  it  is  you  ?  You  were  not  bom  when  I  left  the  country. 
I  did  not  know  you !  "  And  Father  Damaso  still  held  in 
his  strong  arms  the  young  man,  whose  face  began  to  color, 
perhaps  from   embarrassment,   perhaps  from    suffocation. 

12 


164  An  Eagle  Flight 

Father  Damaso  appeared  to  have  completely  forgotten  his 
grief. 

After  the  first  moments  of  effusion  and  questions  about 
Carlicos  and  Pepa,  Father  Damaso  asked: 

"Let's  see,  what  is  it  Carlicos  wishes  me  to  do  for  you?  " 

"  I  think  he  says  something  about  it  in  the  letter,"  stam- 
mered Linares  again. 

"In  the  letter?  Yes,  that's  so!  He  wishes  me  to  find 
you  employment  and  a  wife.  Ah,  the  employment  is  easy 
enough,  but  as  for  the  wife ! — hem ! — a  wife " 

"  Father,  that  is  not  so  urgent,"  said  Linares,  with  confu- 
sion. 

But  Father  Damaso  was  walking  back  and  forth  murmur- 
ing: "A  wife!  A  wife!  "  His  face  was  no  longer  sad  or 
joyful,  but  serious  and  preoccupied.  From  a  distance 
Father  Salvi  watched  the  scene. 

"  I  did  not  think  the  thing  could  cause  me  so  much  pain," 
Father  Damaso  murmured  plaintively;  "but  of  two  evils 
choose  the  least!  "     Then  approaching  Linares: 

"  Come  with  me,  my  boy,"  he  said,  "  we  will  talk  with 
Don  Santiago."     Linares  paled  and  followed  the  priest. 


XXXVII. 

SCRUTINY   OF     CONSCIENCE. 

Long  days  followed  by  weary  nights  were  passed  by  the 
pillow  of  the  sick  girl.  After  a  confession  to  Father  Salvi, 
Maria  Clara  had  had  a  relapse,  and  in  her  delirium  she 
pronounced  no  name  but  that  of  her  mother,  whom  she  had 
never  known.  Her  friends,  her  father,  her  aunt,  watched  her, 
and  heaped  with  gifts  and  with  silver  for  masses  the  altars 
of  miraculous  images.  At  last,  slowly  and  regularly,  the 
fever  began  to  abate. 

The  Doctor  de  Espadana  was  stupefied  at  the  virtues  of 
the  syrup  of  marshmallow  and  the  decoction  of  lichen,  pre- 
scriptions he  had  never  varied.  Dona  Victorina  was  so 
satisfied  with  her  husband  that  one  day  when  he  stepped 
on  her  train,  in  a  rare  state  of  clemency  she  did  not  apply 
to  him  the  usual  penal  code  by  pulling  out  his  teeth. 

One  afternoon,  Sinang  and  Victorina  were  with  Maria; 
the  curate.  Captain  Tiago,  and  the  Espadanas  were  talking 
in  the  dining-room. 

"  I'm  distressed  to  hear  it,"  the  doctor  was  saying;  "  and 
Father  Damaso  must  be  greatly  disturbed." 

"  Where  did  you  say  he  is  to  be  sent  ?  "  asked  Linares. 

"  Into  the  province  of  Tabayas,"  replied  the  curate  care- 
lessly. 

"  Maria  Clara  will  be  very  sorry  too,"  said  Captain  Tiago; 
"  she  loves  him  like  a  father." 

Father  Salvi  looked  at  him  from  the  corner  of  his  eye. 

"Father,"   continued   Captain    Tiago,    "I  believe  her 


1 66  An  Eagle  Flight 

sickness  came  from  nothing  but  that  trouble  the  day  of  the 
fete." 

"  I  am  of  the  same  opinion,  so  you  have  done  well  in  not 
permitting  Senor  Ibarra  to  talk  with  her;  that  would  only 
have  aggravated  her  condition." 

"  And  it  is  thanks  to  us  alone,"  interrupted  Dona  Victor- 
ina,  "  that  Clarita  is  not  already  in  heaven  singing  praises 
with  the  angels." 

"  Amen !  "  Captain  Tiago  felt  moved  to  say. 

**  I  think  I  know  whereof  I  speak,"  said  the  curate,  "  when 
I  say  that  the  confession  of  Maria  Clara  brought  about  the 
favorable  crisis  that  saved  her  life.  I  do  not  deny  the 
power  of  science,  but  a  pure  conscience " 

"Pardon,"  objected  Dona  Victorina,  piqued;  "then  cure 
the  wife  of  the  alfdrez  with  a  confession !  " 

"  A  hurt,  senora,  is  not  a  malady,  to  be  influenced  by  the 
conscience,"  replied  Father  Salvi  severely;  "but  a  good 
confession  would  preserve  her  in  future  from  such  blows 
as  she  got  this  morning." 

"  She  deserved  them !  "  said  Dona  Victorina.  "  She  is 
an  insolent  woman.  In  church  she  did  nothing  but  look  at 
me.  I  had  a  mind  to  ask  her  what  there  was  curious  about 
my  face;  but  who  would  soil  her  lips  speaking  to  these 
people  of  no  standing  ?  " 

The  curate,  as  if  he  had  not  heard  this  tirade,  continued : 
"  To  finish  the  cure  of  your  daughter,  she  should  receive 
the  communion  to-morrow,  Don  Santiago.  I  think  she 
does  not  need  to  confess,  and  yet,  if  she  will  once  more, 
this  evening " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Dona  Victorina,  profiting  by  the 
pause  to  continue  her  reflections,  "  I  don't  understand  how 
men  can  marry  such  frights.  One  easily  sees  where  that 
woman  came  from.  She  is  dying  of  envy,  that  shows  in  her 
eyes.    What  does  an  alf^rez  get? " 


Scrutiny  of  Conscience  167 

"  So  prepare  Maria  for  confession,"  the  curate  continued, 
turning  to  Aunt  Isabel. 

The  good  aunt  left  the  group  and  went  to  her  niece's 
room.  Maria  Clara  was  still  in  bed,  and  pale,  very  pale; 
beside  her  were  her  two  friends. 

Sinang  was  giving  her  her  medicine. 

"  He  has  not  written  to  you  again  ?  "  asked  Maria,  softly. 

"No." 

"  He  gave  you  no  message  for  me  ?  " 

"No;  he  only  said  he  was  going  to  make  every  effort  to 
have  the  archbishop  raise  the  ban  of  excommunication " 

The  arrival  of  Aunt  Isabel  interrupted  the  conversa- 
tion. 

"  The  father  says  you  are  to  prepare  yourself  for  con- 
fession, my  child,"  said  she.  "  Sinang,  leave  her  to  ex- 
amine her  conscience.  Shall  I  bring  you  the  'Anchor,'  the 
'Bouquet,'  or  the  'Straight  Road  to  Heaven,'  Maria? " 

Maria  Clara  did  not  reply. 

"  Well,  we  mustn't  fatigue  you,"  said  the  good  aunt  con- 
solingly; "I  will  read  you  the  examination  myself,  and 
you  will  only  have  to  remember  your  sins." 

"  Write  him  to  think  of  me  no  more,"  murmured  the  sick 
girl  in  Sinang's  ear. 

"What!" 

But  Aunt  Isabel  came  back  with  her  book,  and  Sinang 
had  to  go. 

The  good  aunt  drew  her  chair  up  to  the  light,  settled  her 
glasses  on  the  tip  of  her  nose,  and  opened  a  little  book. 

"Give  good  attention,  my  child:  I  will  begin  with  the 
commandments  of  God;  I  shall  go  slowly,  so  that  you  may 
meditate:  if  you  don't  hear  well,  you  must  tell  me,  and  I 
will  repeat;  you  know  I'm  never  weary  of  working  for  your 
good." 

In  a  voice  monotonous  and  nasal,  she  began  to  read. 


1 68  An  Eagle  Flight 

Maria  Clara  gazed  vaguely  into  space.  The  first  command- 
ment finished,  Aunt  Isabel  observed  her  listener  over  her 
glasses,  and  appeared  satisfied  with  her  sad  and  meditative 
air.  She  coughed  piously,  and  after  a  long  pause  began 
the  second.  The  good  old  woman  read  with  unction.  The 
terms  of  the  second  commandment  finished,  she  again 
looked  at  her  niece,  who  slowly  turned  away  her  head. 

"Bah!"  said  Aunt  Isabel  within  herself,  "as  to  taking 
His  holy  name  in  vain,  the  poor  thing  has  nothing  to  ques- 
tion: pass  on  to  the  third." 

And  the  third  commandment  sifted  and  commentated,  all 
the  causes  of  sin  against  it  droned  out,  she  again  looked 
toward  the  bed.  This  time  she  lifted  her  glasses  and  rubbed 
her  eyes;  she  had  seen  her  niece  raise  her  handkerchief,  as 
if  to  wipe  away  tears. 

"  Hm !  "  said  she ;  "  hm !  the  poor  child  must  have  fallen 
asleep  during  the  sermon."  And  putting  back  her  glasses 
on  the  tip  of  her  nose,  she  reflected : 

"  We  shall  see  if  besides  not  keeping  the  holy  feast  days, 
she  has  not  honored  her  father  and  her  mother."  And 
slowly,  in  a  voice  more  nasal  than  ever,  she  read  the  fourth 
commandment. 

"  What  a  pure  soul !  "  thought  the  old  lady ;  "  she  who  is 
so  obedient,  so  submissive !  I've  sinned  much  more  deeply 
than  that,  and  I've  never  been  able  to  really  cry!"  And 
she  began  the  fifth  commandment  with  such  enthusiasm 
that  she  did  not  hear  the  stifled  sobs  of  her  niece.  It  was 
only  when  she  stopped  after  the  commentaries  on  wilful 
homicide,  that  she  perceived  the  groanings  of  the  sinner. 
Then  in  a  voice  that  passed  description,  and  a  manner  she 
strove  to  make  menacing,  she  finished  the  commentary,  and 
seeing  that  Maria  had  not  ceased  to  weep: 

"Cry,  my  child,  cry!"  she  said,  going  to  her  bedside; 
"the  more  you  cry  the  more  quickly  will  God  pardon  you. 


Scrutiny  of  Conscience  169 

Cry,  my  child,  cry;  and  beat  your  breast,  but  not  too  hard, 
for  you  are  ill  yet,  you  know." 

But  as  if  grief  had  need  of  mystery  and  solitude,  Maria 
Clara,  finding  herself  surprised,  stopped  sobbing  little  by 
little  and  dried  her  eyes.  Aunt  Isabel  returned  to  her  read- 
ing, but  the  plaint  of  her  audience  having  ceased,  she  lost 
her  enthusiasm;  the  second  table  of  the  law  made  her 
sleepy,  and  a  yawn  broke  the  nasal  monotony. 

"No  one  would  have  believed  it  without  seeing  it," 
thought  the  good  woman;  "the  child  sins  like  a  soldier 
against  the  first  five  commandments,  and  from  the  sixth  to 
the  tenth  not  so  much  as  a  peccadillo.  That  is  contrary 
to  the  custom  of  the  rest  of  us.  One  sees  queer  things  in 
these  days!  "  And  she  lighted  a  great  candle  for  the  Virgin 
of  Antipolo,  and  two  smaller  ones  for  Our  Lady  of  the  Ros- 
ary and  Our  Lady  of  the  Pillar.  The  Virgin  of  Delaroche 
was  excluded  from  this  illumination :  she  was  to  Aunt  Isabel 
an  unknown  foreigner. 

We  may  not  know  what  passed  during  the  confession  in 
the  evening.  It  was  long,  and  Aunt  Isabel,  who  at  a  dis- 
tance was  watching  over  her  niece,  could  see  that  instead 
of  offering  his  ear  to  the  sick  girl,  the  curate  had  his  face 
turned  toward  her.  He  went  out,  pale,  with  compressed  lips. 
At  the  sight  of  his  brow,  darkened  and  moist  with  sweat, 
one  would  have  said  it  was  he  who  had  confessed,  and  abso- 
lution had  been  denied  him. 

"Maria!  Joseph!"  said  the  good  aunt,  crossing  herself, 
"  who  can  comprehend  the  girls  of  to-day ! " 


XXXVIII. 

THE   TWO   WOMEN. 

Dona  Victorina  was  taking  a  walk  through  the  pueblo, 
to  see  of  what  sort  were  the  dwellings  and  the  advancement 
of  the  indolent  Indians.  She  had  put  on  her  most  elegant 
adornments,  to  impress  the  provincials,  and  to  show  what 
distance  separated  them  from  her  sacred  person.  Giving 
her  arm  to  her  limping  husband,  she  paraded  the  streets  of 
the  pueblo,  to  the  profound  amazement  of  its  inhabitants. 

"What  ugly  houses  these  Indians  have!"  she  began, 
with  a  grimace.  "  One  must  needs  be  an  Indian  to  live  in 
them!  And  how  ill-bred  the  people  are!  They  pass  us 
without  uncovering.  Knock  off  their  hats,  as  the  curates 
do,  and  the  lieutenants  of  the  Civil  Guard." 

"  And  if  they  attack  me  ? "  stammered  the  doctor. 

"  Are  you  not  a  man  ?  " 

"Yes,  but — but — I  am  lame." 

Dona  Victorina  grew  cross.  There  were  no  sidewalks  in 
these  streets,  and  the  dust  was  soiling  the  train  of  her  dress. 
Some  young  girls  who  passed  dropped  their  eyes,  and  did 
not  admire  at  all  as  they  should  her  luxurious  attire. 
Sinang's  coachman,  who  was  driving  Sinang  and  her  cousin 
in  an  elegant  tres-por-ciento,  had  the  effronterj'  to  cry  out  to 
her  "  Tabi ! "  in  so  audacious  a  voice  that  she  moved  out  of 
the  way. 

"  What  a  brute  of  a  coachman !  "  she  protested ;  "  I  shall 
tell  his  master  he  had  better  train  his  servants.  Come 
along,  Tiburciol" 


The  Two  Women  171 

Her  husband,  fearing  a  tempest,  turned  on  his  heels,  and 
they  found  themselves  face  to  face  with  the  alfe'rez.  Greet- 
ings were  exchanged,  but  Dona  Victorina's  discontent  grew. 
Not  only  had  the  officer  said  nothing  complimentary  of  her 
costume,  but  she  believed  she  detected  mockery  in  his  look. 

"  You  ought  not  to  give  your  hand  to  a  simple  alf^rez," 
she  said  to  her  husband,  when  the  officer  had  passed. 
"You  don't  know  how  to  preserve  your  rank." 

"  H— here  he  is  the  chief." 

"What  does  that  mean  to  us?  Do  we  happen  to  be 
Indians? " 

"  You  are  right,"  said  Don  Tiburcio,  not  minded  to  dis- 
pute. 

They  passed  the  barracks.  Dona  Consolacion  was  at  the 
window,  as  usual  dressed  in  flannel,  and  puffing  her  puro. 
As  the  house  was  low,  the  two  women  faced  each  other. 
The  muse  examined  Dona  Victorina  from  head  to  foot,  pro- 
truded her  lip,  ejected  tobacco  juice,  and  turned  away  her 
head.  This  affectation  of  contempt  brought  the  patience 
of  the  doctora  to  an  end.  Leaving  her  husband  without 
support,  she  went,  trembling  with  rage,  powerless  to  utter  a 
word,  and  placed  herself  in  front  of  the  alf^reza's  window. 
Dona  Consolacion  turned  her  head  slowly  back,  regarded 
her  antagonist  with  the  utmost  calm,  and  spat  again  with 
the  same  cool  contempt. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you,  dona?  "  she  asked. 

"  Could  you  tell  me,  senora,  why  you  stare  at  me  in  this 
fashion?  Are  you  jealous?"  Dona  Victorina  was  at  last 
able  to  say. 

"I  jealous?  And  of  you?  "  replied  the  alf^reza  calmly. 
"Yes,  I'm  jealous  of  your  frizzes." 

"Come  away  there!  "  broke  in  the  doctor;  "d — d — don't 
pay  at — t — t — tention  to  these  f—f— follies!  " 

"  Let  me  alone !     I  have  to  give  a  lesson  to  this  brazen- 


172  An  Eagle  Flight 

face! "  replied  the  doctora,  joggling  her  husband,  who  just 
missed  sprawling  in  the  dust. 

"Consider  to  whom  you  are  speaking!"  she  said 
haughtily,  turning  back  to  Dona  Consolacion.  "  Don't  think 
I  am  a  provincial  or  a  woman  of  your  class.  With  us,  at 
Manila,  the  alf^rezas  are  not  received;  they  wait  at  the 
door." 

"  Ho !  ho  I  most  worshipful  seiiora,  the  alfdrezas  wait  at 
the  door  1  But  you  receive  such  paralytics  as  th is  gentleman ! 
Ha!  ha!  ha!" 

Had  she  been  less  powdered  Dona  Victorina  might  have 
been  seen  to  blush.  She  started  to  rush  on  her  enemy,  but 
the  sentinel  stood  in  the  way.  The  street  was  filling  with 
a  curious  crowd. 

"Know  that  I  demean  myself  in  speaking  to  you; 
persons  of  position  like  me  ought  not!  Will  you  wash  my 
clothes?  I  will  pay  you  well.  Do  you  suppose  I  do  not 
know  you  are  a  washerwoman  ?  " 

Dona  Consolacion  sat  erect.  To  be  called  a  washer- 
woman had  wounded  her. 

"And  do  you  think  we  don't  know  who  you  are?" 
she  retorted.  "  My  husband  has  told  me !  Senora,  I,  at 
least " 

But  she  could  not  be  heard.  Dona  Victorina,  wildly 
shaking  her  fists,  screamed  out : 

"  Come  down,  you  old  hussy,  come  down  and  let  me  tear 
your  beautiful  eyes  out!  " 

Rapidly  the  medusa  disappeared  from  the  window;  more 
rapidly  yet  she  came  running  down  the  steps,  brandishing 
her  husband's  terrible  whip.  Don  Tiburcio,  supplicating 
both,  threw  himself  between,  but  he  could  not  have  pre- 
vented the  combat,  had  not  the  alfdrez  arrived. 

"Well,  well,  senoras! — Don  Tiburcio!" 

"Give  your  wife  a  little  more  breeding,  buy  her  more 


The  Two  Women  173 

beautiful  clothes,  and  if  you  haven't  the  money,  steal  it  from 
the  people  of  the  pueblo;  you  have  soldiers  for  that!  "  cried 
Dona  Victorina. 

"  Senora,  "  said  the  alfdrez,  furious,  "  it  is  fortunate  that 
I  remember  you  are  a  woman ;  if  I  didn't,  I  should  trample 
you  down,  with  all  your  curls  and  ribbons! " 

"  Se — senor  alf^rez!  " 

"Move  on,  charlatan!  It's  not  you  who  wear  the 
breeches ! " 

Armed  with  words  and  gestures,  with  cries,  insults,  and 
injuries,  the  two  women  hurled  at  each  other  all  there  was 
in  them  of  soil  and  shame.  All  four  talked  at  once,  and  in 
the  multitude  of  words  numerous  verities  were  paraded  in 
the  light.  If  they  did  not  hear  all,  the  crowd  of  the  curious 
did  not  fail  to  be  diverted.  They  were  looking  forward  to 
battle,  but,  unhappily  for  these  amateurs  of  sport,  the  curate 
came  by  and  established  peace. 

"Senoras!  senoras!  what  a  scandal !     Senor  alfdrez !  " 

"What  are  you  doing  here,  hypocrite,  carlist!  " 

"  Don  Tiburcio,  take  away  your  wife !  Senora,  restrain 
your  tongue ! " 

Little  by  little  the  dictionary  of  sounding  epithets  became 
exhausted.  The  shameless  shrews  found  nothing  left  to  say 
to  each  other,  and  still  threatening,  the  two  couples  drew 
slowly  apart,  the  curate  going  from  one  to  the  other,  lavish- 
ing himself  on  both. 

"We  shall  leave  for  Manila  this  very  day  and  present 
ourselves  to  the  captain -general !  "  said  the  infuriated  Dona 
Victorina  to  her  husband.     "  You  are  no  man !  " 

"  But — but,  wife,  the  guards,  and  I  am  lame." 

"  You  are  to  challenge  him,  with  swords  or  pistols,  or 
else — or  else "     And  she  looked  at  his  teeth. 

"Woman,  I've  never  handled " 

Dona  Victorina  let  him  go  no  farther;  with  a  sublime 


174  An  Eagle  Flight 

movement  she  snatched  out  his  teeth,  threw  them  in  the 
dust,  and  trampled  them  under  her  feet.  The  doctor  al- 
most crying,  the  doctora  pelting  him  with  sarcasms,  they  ar- 
rived at  the  house  of  Captain  Tiago.  Linares,  who  was 
talking  with  Maria  Clara,  was  no  little  disquieted  by  the 
abrupt  arrival  of  his  cousins.  Maria,  amid  the  pillows  of 
her  fauteuil,  was  not  less  surprised  at  the  new  physiognomy 
of  her  doctor. 

"Cousin,"  said  Dona  Victorina,  "you  are  to  go  and  chal- 
lenge the  alfdrez  this  instant;  if  not " 

"Why?  "  demanded  the  astonished  Linares. 

"You  are  to  go  and  challenge  him  this  instant;  if  not,  I 
shall  say  here,  and  to  everybody,  who  you  are." 

"  Dona  Victorina  I  " 

The  three  friends  looked  at  each  other. 

"  The  alf erez  has  insulted  us.  The  old  sorceress  came 
down  with  a  whip  to  assault  us,  and  this  creature  did  noth- 
ing to  prevent  it !     A  man !  " 

"Hear  that!"  said  Sinang  regretfully.  "There  was  a 
fight,  and  we  didn't  see  it! " 

"  The  alf^rez  broke  the  doctor's  teeth ! "  added  Dona 
Victorina. 

Captain  Tiago  entered,  but  he  wasn't  given  time  to  get 
his  breath.  In  few  words,  with  an  intermingling  of  spicy 
language.  Dona  Victorina  narrated  what  had  passed,  nat- 
urally trying  to  put  herself  in  a  good  light. 

"Linares  is  going  to  challenge  him,  do  you  hear?  Or 
don't  let  him  marry  your  daughter.  If  he  isn't  courageous, 
he  doesn't  merit  Clarita." 

"What!  you  are  going  to  marry  this  gentleman?"  Si- 
nang asked  Maria,  her  laughing  eyes  filling  with  tears. 
"  I  know  you  are  discreet,  but  I  didn't  think  you  incon- 
stant." 

Maria    Clara,  white  as    alabaster,  looked    with    great, 


The  Two  Women  175 

frightened  eyes  from  her  father  to  Dona  Victorina,  from 
Dona  Victorina  to  Linares.  The  young  man  reddened; 
Captain  Tiago  dropped  his  head. 

"  Help  me  to  my  room,"  Maria  said  to  her  friends,  and 
steadied  by  their  round  arms,  her  head  on  the  shoulder  of 
Victorina,  she  went  out. 

That  night  the  husband  and  wife  packed  their  trunks,  and 
presented  their  account — no  trifle — to  Captain  Tiago.  The 
next  morning  they  set  out  for  Manila,  leaving  to  the  pacific 
Linares  the  role  of  avenger. 


XXXIX. 

THE    OUTLAWED. 

By  the  feeble  moonlight  that  penetrates  the  thick  foliage 
of  forest  trees,  a  man  was  making  his  way  through  the 
woods.  His  movement  was  slow  but  assured.  From  time 
to  time,  as  if  to  get  his  bearings,  he  whistled  an  air,  to 
which  another  whistler  in  the  distance  replied  by  repeat- 
ing it. 

At  last,  after  struggling  long  against  the  many  obstacles 
a  virgin  forest  opposes  to  the  march  of  man,  and  most 
obstinately  at  night,  he  arrived  at  a  little  clearing,  bathed 
in  the  light  of  the  moon  in  its  first  quarter.  Scarcely  had 
he  entered  it  when  another  man  came  carefully  out  from 
behind  a  great  rock,  a  revolver  in  his  hand. 

"  Who  are  you  ? "  he  demanded  with  authority  in  Ta- 
galo. 

"  Is  old  Pablo  with  you  ?  "  asked  the  newcomer  tranquilly ; 
"  if  so,  tell  him  Elias  is  searching  for  him." 

"You  are  Elias?  "  said  the  other,  with  a  certain  respect, 
yet  keeping  his  revolver  cocked.     "  Follow  me!  " 

They  penetrated  a  cavern,  the  guide  warning  the  helms- 
man when  to  lower  his  head,  when  to  crawl  on  all  fours. 
After  a  short  passage  they  arrived  at  a  sort  of  room,  dimly 
lighted  by  pitch  torches,  where  twelve  or  fifteen  men,  dirty, 
ragged,  and  sinister,  were  talking  low  among  themselves. 
His  elbows  resting  on  a  stone,  an  old  man  of  sombre  face 
sat  apart,  looking  toward  the  smoky  torches.  It  was  a 
cavern  of  tulisanes.     When  Elias  arrived,  the  men  started 


The  Outlawed  177 

to  rise,  but  at  a  gesture  from  the  old  man  they  remained 
quiet,  contenting  themselves  with  examining  the  newcomer. 

"  Is  it  thou,  then  ?  "  said  the  old  chief,  his  sad  eyes  light- 
ing a  little  at  sight  of  the  young  man. 

"And  you  are  here!  "  exclaimed  Elias,  half  to  himself. 

The  old  man  bent  his  head  in  silence,  making  at  the 
same  time  a  sign  to  the  men,  who  rose  and  went  out,  not 
without  taking  the  helmsman's  measure  with  their  eyes. 

"Yes,"  said  the  old  man  to  Elias  when  they  were  alone, 
"six  months  ago  I  gave  you  hospitality  in  my  home;  now 
it  is  I  who  receive  compassion  from  you.  But  sit  down  and 
tell  me  how  you  found  me." 

"  As  soon  as  I  heard  of  your  misfortunes,"  replied  Elias 
slowly,  "  I  set  out,  and  searched  from  mountain  to  mountain. 
I've  gone  over  nearly  two  provinces."  After  a  short  pause 
in  which  he  tried  to  read  the  old  man's  thoughts  in  his 
sombre  face,  he  went  on : 

"  I  have  come  to  make  you  a  proposition.  After  vainly 
trying  to  find  some  representative  of  the  family  which  caused 
the  ruin  of  my  own,  I  have  decided  to  go  North,  and  live 
among  the  savage  tribes.  Will  you  leave  this  life  you  are 
beginning,  and  come  with  me?     Let  me  be  a  son  to  you? " 

The  old  man  shook  his  head. 

"  At  my  age,"  he  said,  "  when  one  has  taken  a  desperate 
resolution  it  is  final.  When  such  a  man  as  I,  who  passed 
his  youth  and  ripe  age  laboring  to  assure  his  future  and 
that  of  his  children,  who  submitted  always  to  the  will  of 
superiors,  whose  conscience  is  clear — when  such  a  man, 
almost  on  the  border  of  the  tomb,  renounces  all  his  past,  it 
is  because  after  ripe  reflection  he  concludes  that  there  is  no 
such  thing  as  peace.  Why  go  to  a  strange  land  to  drag  out 
my  miserable  days?  I  had  two  sons,  a  daughter,  a  home,  a 
fortune.  I  enjoyed  consideration  and  respect;  now  I  am 
like  a  tree  stripped  of  its  branches,  bare  and  desolate.    And 


178  An  Eagle  Flight 

why?  Because  a  man  dishonored  my  daughter;  because  my 
sons  wished  to  seek  satisfaction  from  this  man,  placed 
above  other  by  his  office ;  because  this  man,  fearing  them, 
sought  their  destruction  and  accomplished  it.  And  I  have 
survived ;  but  if  I  did  not  know  how  to  defend  my  sons,  I 
shall  know  how  to  avenge  them.  The  day  my  band  is  strong 
enough,  I  shall  go  down  into  the  plain  and  wipe  out  my 
vengeance  and  my  life  in  fire!  Either  this  day  will  come 
or  there  is  no  God !  " 

The  old  man  rose,  and,  his  eyes  glittering,  his  voice 
cavernous,  he  cried,  fastening .  his  hands  in  his  long 
hair: 

"  Malediction,  malediction  upon  me,  who  held  the  aveng- 
ing hands  of  my  sons!     I  was  their  assassin!  " 

"  I  understand  you,"  said  Elias ;  "  I  too  have  a  vengeance  to 
satisfy ;  and  yet,  from  fear  of  striking  the  innocent,  I  choose 
to  forego  that." 

"You  can;  you  are  young;  you  have  not  lost  your  last 
hope.  I  too,  I  swear  it,  would  not  strike  the  innocent.  You 
see  this  woimd  ?  I  got  it  rather  than  harm  a  cuadrillero 
who  was  doing  his  duty." 

"  And  yet,"  said  Elias,  "  if  you  carry  out  your  purpose, 
you  will  bring  dreadful  woes  to  our  unhappy  country.  If 
with  your  own  hands  you  satisfy  your  vengeance,  your 
enemies  will  take  terrible  reprisals — not  from  you,  not  from 
those  who  are  armed,  but  from  the  people,  who  are  always 
the  ones  accused.  When  I  knew  you  in  other  days,  you 
gave  me  wise  counsels:  will  you  permit  me " 

The  old  man  crossed  his  arms  and  seemed  to  attend. 

"  Senor,"  continued  Elias,  "  I  have  had  the  fortune  to  do 
a  great  service  to  a  young  man,  rich,  kind  of  heart,  upright, 
wishing  the  good  of  his  country.  It  is  said  he  has  relations 
at  Madrid;  of  that  I  know  nothing,  but  I  know  he  is  the 
friend  of  the  governor-general.    What  do  you  think  of  inter- 


The  Outlawed  170 

esting  him  in  the  cause  of  the  miserable  and  making  him 
their  voice? " 

The  old  man  shook  his  head. 

"  He  is  rich,  you  say.  The  rich  think  only  of  increasing 
their  riches.  Not  one  of  them  would  compromise  his  peace 
to  go  to  the  aid  of  those  who  suffer.  I  know  it,  I  who  was 
rich  myself." 

"  But  he  is  not  like  the  others.  And  he  is  a  young  man 
about  to  marry,  who  wishes  the  tranquillity  of  his  country 
for  the  sake  of  his  children's  children." 

"He  is  a  man,  then,  who  is  going  to  be  happy.  Our 
cause  is  not  that  of  fortunate  men." 

"  No,  but  it  is  that  of  men  of  courage !  " 

"  True,"  said  the  old  man,  seating  himself  again.  "  Let 
us  suppose  he  consents  to  be  our  mouthpiece.  Let  us  sup- 
pose he  wins  the  captain-general,  and  finds  at  Madrid 
deputies  who  can  plead  for  us;  do  you  believe  we  shall  have 
justice? " 

"  Let  us  try  it  before  we  try  measures  of  blood,"  said 
Elias.  "  It  must  surprise  you  that  I,  an  outlaw  too,  and 
young  and  strong,  propose  pacific  measures.  It  is  because 
I  see  the  number  of  miseries  which  we  ourselves  cause,  as 
well  as  our  tyrants.  It  is  always  the  unarmed  who  pay  the 
penalty." 

"  And  if  nothing  result  from  our  steps?  " 

"  If  we  are  not  heard,  if  our  grievances  are  made  light  of, 
I  shall  be  the  first  to  put  myself  under  your  orders." 

The  old  man  embraced  Elias,  a  strange  light  in  his  eyes. 

"  I  accept  the  proposition,"  he  said ;  "  I  know  you  will 
keep  your  word.  I  will  help  you  to  avenge  your  parents; 
you  shall  help  me  to  avenge  my  sons !  " 

"  Meanwhile,  senor,  you  will  do  nothing  violent." 

"And  you  will  set  forth  the  wrongs  of  the  people;  you 
know  them.     When  shall  I  have  the  response  ?  " 
13 


i8o  An  Eagle  Flight 

"  In  four  days  send  me  a  man  to  the  lake  shore  of  San 
Diego.  I  will  tell  him  the  decision,  and  name  the  person 
on  whom  I  count." 

'"  Elias  will  be  chief  when  Captain  Pablo  is  fallen,"  said 
the  old  man.  And  he  himself  accompanied  the  helmsman 
out  of  the  cave. 


XL. 

THE   ENIGMA. 

The  day  after  the  departure  of  the  doctor  and  the  doctora, 
Ibarra  returned  to  the  pueblo.  He  hastened  to  the  house 
of  Captain  Tiago  to  tell  Maria  he  had  been  reconciled  to 
the  Church.  Aunt  Isabel,  who  was  fond  of  the  young  fel- 
low, and  anxious  for  his  marriage  with  her  niece,  was  filled 
with  joy.     Captain  Tiago  was  not  at  home. 

"  Come  in ! "  Aunt  Isabel  cried  in  her  bad  Castilian. 
"  Maria,  Crisdstomo  has  returned  to  favor  with  the  Church ; 
the  archibshop  has  disexcommunicated  him !  " 

But  Crisbstomo  stood  still,  the  smile  froze  on  his  lips, 
the  words  he  was  to  say  to  Maria  fled  from  his  mind. 
Leaning  against  the  balcony  beside  her  was  Linares;  on  the 
floor  lay  leafless  roses  and  sampagas.  The  Spaniard  was 
making  garlands  with  the  flowers  and  leaves  from  the  vines; 
Maria  Clara,  buried  in  her  fauteuil,  pale  and  thoughtful,  was 
playing  with  an  ivory  fan,  less  white  than  her  slender  hands. 

At  sight  of  Ibarra  Linares  paled,  and  carmine  tinted  the 
cheeks  of  Maria  Clara.  She  tried  to  rise,  but  was  not 
strong  enough ;  she  lowered  her  eyes  and  let  her  fan  fall. 

For  some  seconds  there  was  an  embarrassing  silence; 
then  Ibarra  spoke. 

"I  have  this  moment  arrived,  and  came  straight  here. 
You  are  better  than  I  thought  you  were." 

One  would  have  said  Maria  had  become  mute:  her  eyes 
still  lowered,  she  did  not  say  a  word  in  reply.  Ibarra  looked 
searchingly  at  Linares;  the  timid  young  man  bore  the 
scrutiny  with  haughtiness. 


1 82  An  Eagle  Flight 

"  I  see  my  arrival  was  not  expected,"  he  went  on  slowly. 
"  Pardon  me,  Maria,  that  I  did  not  have  myself  announced. 
Some  day  I  can  explain  to  you — for  we  shall  still  see  each 
other — surely !  " 

At  these  last  words  the  girl  raised  toward  her  fiancd  her 
beautiful  eyes  full  of  purity  and  sadness,  so  suppliant  and 
so  sweet  that  Ibarra  stood  still  in  confusion. 

"  May  I  come  to-morrow?  "  he  asked  after  a  moment. 

"  You  know  that  to  me  you  are  always  welcome,"  she  said 
in  a  weak  voice. 

Ibarra  left,  calm  in  appearance,  but  a  tempest  was  in  his 
brain  and  freezing  cold  in  his  heart.  What  he  had  just 
seen  and  comprehended  seemed  to  him  incomprehensible. 
Was  it  doubt,  inconstancy,  betrayal? 

"  Oh,  woman !  "  he  murmured. 

Without  knowing  where  he  went,  he  arrived  at  the  ground 
where  the  school  was  going  up.  Senor  Juan  hailed  him 
with  delight,  and  showed  him  what  had  been  done  since  he 
went  away. 

With  surprise  Ibarra  saw  Elias  among  the  workmen;  the 
helmsman  saluted  him,  as  did  the  others,  and  at  the  same 
time  made  him  understand  that  he  had  something  to  say  to 
him. 

"  Senor  Juan,"  said  Ibarra,  "  will  you  bring  me  the  list 
of  workmen  ? "  Senor  Juan  disappeared,  and  Ibarra  ap- 
proached Elias,  who  was  lifting  a  great  stone  and  loading 
it  on  a  cart. 

"  If  you  can,  senor,"  said  the  helmsman,  "  give  me  an 
hour  of  conversation,  there  is  something  grave  of  which  I 
want  to  talk  with  you.  Will  you  go  on  the  lake  early  this 
evening  in  my  boat?  " 

Ibarra  gave  a  sign  of  assent  and  Elias  moved  away. 
Senor  Juan  brought  the  list,  but  Ibarra  searched  it  in  vain 
for  the  name  of  the  helmsman. 


XLI. 

THE    VOICE    OF    THE    PERSECUTED. 

The  sun  was  just  setting  when  Ibarra  stepped  into  the 
little  boat  on  the  lake  shore.     He  appeared  disturbed. 

"  Pardon  me,  senor,"  said  Elias,  "  for  having  asked  this 
favor;  I  wished  to  speak  to  you  freely,  with  no  possibility 
of  listeners." 

*'  And  what  have  you  to  say  ?  " 

They  had  already  shot  away  from  the  bank.     The  sun  had 
disappeared  behind  the  crest  of   the   mountains,   and   as 
twilight  is  of  short  duration  in  this  latitude,  the  night  was- 
descending  rapidly,  lighted  by  a  brilliant  moon. 

"  Senor,"  replied  Elias,  "  I  am  the  spokesman  of  many 
unfortunates."  And  briefly  he  told  of  his  conversation  with 
the  chief  of  the  tulisanes,  omitting  the  old  man's  doubts  and 
threats. 

"And  they  wish?  "  asked  Ibarra,  when  he  had  finished. 

"  Radical  reforms  in  the  guard,  the  clergy,  and  the  ad- 
ministration of  justice." 

"  Elias,"  said  Ibarra,  "  I  know  little  of  you,  but  I  believe 
you  will  understand  me  when  I  say  that  though  I  have 
friends  at  Madrid  whom  I  might  influence,  and  though  I 
might  interest  the  captain -general  in  these  people,  neither 
they  nor  he  could  bring  about  such  a  revolution.  And 
more,  I  would  not  take  a  step  in  this  direction,  because  I 
believe  what  you  want  reformed  is  at  present  a  necessary 
evil." 

"You  also,  senor,  believe  in  necessary  evil?"  said  Elias 


184  An  Eagle  Flight 

with  a  tremor  in  his  voice.  "  You  think  one  must  go 
through  evil  to  arrive  at  good?  " 

"No;  but  I  look  at  evil  as  a  violent  remedy  we  some- 
times use  to  cure  ourselves  of  illness." 

"  It  is  a  bad  medicine,  senor,  that  does  away  with  the 
symptoms  without  searching  out  the  cause  of  the  disease. 
The  Municipal  Guard  exists  only  to  suppress  crime  by 
force  and  terrorizing." 

"  The  institution  may  be  imperfect,  but  the  terror  it  in- 
spires keeps  down  the  number  of  criminals." 

"  Rather  say  that  this  terror  creates  new  criminals  every 
day,"  said  Elias.  "  There  are  those  who  have  become  tuli- 
sanes  for  life.  A  first  offence  punished  inhumanly,  and 
the  fear  of  further  torture  separates  them  forever  from 
society  and  condemns  them  to  kill  or  to  be  killed.  The 
terrorism  of  the  Municipal  Guard  shuts  the  doors  of  repent- 
ance, and  as  a  tulisan,  defending  himself  in  the  mountains, 
fights  to  much  better  advantage  than  the  soldier  he  mocks, 
we  cannot  remedy  the  evil  we  have  made.  Terrorism  may 
serve  when  a  people  is  enslaved,  and  the  mountains  have 
no  caverns;  but  when  a  desperate  man  feels  the  strength  of 
his  arm,  and  anger  possesses  him,  terrorism  cannot  put  out 
the  fire  for  which  it  has  itself  heaped  the  fuel." 

*'  You  would  seem  to  speak  reasonably,  Elias,  if  one  had 
not  already  his  own  convictions.  But  let  me  ask  you.  Who 
demand  these  reforms?  You  know  I  except  you,  whom 
I  cannot  class  with  these  others;  but  are  they  not  all  crim- 
inals, or  men  ready  to  become  so?  " 

"  Go  from  pueblo  to  pueblo,  senor,  from  house  to  house, 
and  listen  to  the  stifled  groanings,  and  you  will  find  that  if 
you  think  that,  you  are  mistaken." 

"  But  the  Government  must  have  a  body  of  unlimited 
power,  to  make  itself  respected  and  its  authority  felt." 

"  It  is  true,  senor,  when  the  Government  is  at  war  with 


The  Voice  of  the  Persecuted        185 

the  country ;  but  is  it  not  unfortunate  that  in  times  of  peace 
the  people  should  be  made  to  feel  they  are  at  strife  with 
their  rulers?  If,  however,  we  prefer  force  to  authority,  we 
should  at  least  be  careful  to  whom  we  give  unlimited  power. 
Such  a  force  in  the  hands  of  men  ignorant,  passionate,  with- 
out moral  training  or  tried  honor,  is  a  weapon  thrown  to  a 
madman  in  the  middle  of  an  unarmed  crowd.  I  grant  the 
Government  must  have  an  arm,  but  let  it  choose  this  arm 
well ;  and  since  it  prefers  the  power  it  assumes  to  that  the 
people  might  give  it,  let  it  at  least  show  that  it  knows  how 
to  assume  it !  " 

Elias  spoke  with  passion;  his  eyes  were  brilliant,  his 
voice  was  resonant.  His  words  were  followed  by  silence ;  the 
boat,  no  longer  driven  forward  by  the  oars,  seemed  motion- 
less on  the  surface  of  the  lake ;  the  moon  shone  resplendent 
in  the  sapphire  sky;  above  the  far  banks  the  stars  glittered. 

"And  what  else  do  they  ask?  " 

"Reform  of  the  religious  orders, — they  demand  better 
protection " 

"Against  the  religious  orders?  " 

"  Against  their  oppression,  senor." 

"  Do  the  Philippines  forget  the  debt  they  owe  those  men 
who  led  them  out  of  error  into  the  true  faith?  It  is  a  pity 
we  are  not  taught  the  history  of  our  country ! " 

"We  must  not  forget  this  debt,  no!  But  were  not  our 
nationality  and  independence  a  dear  price  with  which  to 
cancel  it?  We  have  also  given  the  priests  our  best  pue- 
blos, our  most  fertile  fields,  and  we  still  give  them  our  sav- 
ings, for  the  purchase  of  all  sorts  of  religious  objects.  I 
realize  that  a  pure  faith  and  a  veritable  love  of  humanity 
moved  the  first  missionaries  who  came  to  our  shores.  I 
acknowledge  the  debt  we  owe  those  noble  men;  I  know 
that  in  those  days  Spain  abounded  in  heroes,  of  politics  as 
well  as  religion.     But  because  the  ancestors  were  true  men, 


1 86  An  Eagle  Flight 

must  we  consent  to  the  excesses  of  their  unworthy  descend- 
ants? Because  a  great  good  has  been  done  us,  may  we  not 
protest  against  being  done  a  great  wrong?  The  mission- 
aries conquered  the  country,  it  is  true ;  but  do  you  think  it 
is  through  the  monks  that  Spain  will  keep  the  Philippines?  " 

"  Yes,  and  through  them  only.  It  is  the  opinion  of  all 
those  who  have  written  on  the  islands." 

"  Senor,"  said  Elias  in  dejection,  "  I  thank  you  for  your 
patience.     I  will  take  you  back  to  the  shore." 

"  No,"  said  Ibarra,  "  go  on ;  we  should  know  which  is 
right  in  so  important  a  question." 

"  You  will  excuse  me,  senor,"  said  Elias,  "  I  have  not  elo- 
quence enough  to  convince  you.  If  I  have  some  education, 
I  am  an  Indian,  and  my  words  would  always  be  suspected. 
Those  who  have  expressed  opinions  contrary  to  mine  are 
Spaniards,  and  as  such  disarm  in  advance  all  contradiction. 
Besides,  when  I  see  that  you,  who  love  your  country,  you, 
whose  father  sleeps  below  this  calm  water,  you  who  have 
been  attacked  and  wronged  yourself,  have  these  opinions,  I 
commence  to  doubt  my  own  convictions,  I  acknowledge 
that  the  people  may  be  mistaken.  I  must  tell  these  un- 
fortunates who  have  placed  their  confidence  in  men  to  put  it 
in  God  or  in  their  own  strength." 

"  Elias,  your  words  hurt  me,  and  make  me,  too,  have 
doubts.  I  have  not  grown  up  with  the  people,  and  cannot 
know  their  needs.  I  only  know  what  books  have  taught 
me.  If  I  take  your  words  with  caution,  it  is  because  I  fear 
you  maybe  prejudiced  by  your  personal  wrongs.  If  I  could 
know  something  of  your  stojy,  perhaps  it  would  alter  my 
judgment.  I  am  mistrustful  of  theories,  am  guided  rather 
by  facts." 

Elias  thought  a  moment,  then  he  said: 

"  If  this  is  so,  senor,  I  will  briefly  tell  you  my  history." 


XLII. 

THE    FAMILY   OF   ELIAS. 

"  It  is  about  sixty  years  since  my  grandfather  was  em- 
ployed as  accountant  by  a  Spanish  merchant.  Although 
still  young,  he  was  married,  and  had  a  son.  One  night 
the  warehouse  took  fire,  and  was  burned  with  the  surround- 
ing property.  The  loss  was  great,  incendiarism  was  sus- 
pected, and  my  grandfather  was  accused.  He  had  no 
money  to  pay  for  his  defence,  and  he  was  convicted  and 
condemned  to  be  publicly  flogged  in  the  streets  of  his 
pueblo.  Attached  to  a  horse,  he  was  beaten  as  he  passed 
each  street  corner  by  men,  his  brothers.  The  curates,  you 
know,  advocate  nothing  but  blows  for  the  discipline  of  the 
Indian.  When  the  unhappy  man,  marked  forever  with  in- 
famy, was  liberated,  his  poor  young  wife  went  about  seek- 
ing work  to  keep  alive  her  disabled  husband  and  their  little 
child.  Failing  in  this,  she  was  forced  to  see  them  suflFer, 
or  to  live  herself  a  life  of  shame." 

Ibarra  rose  to  his  feet. 

"Oh,  don't  be  disturbed!  There  was  no  longer  honor 
or  dishonor  for  her  or  hers.  When  the  husband's  wounds 
were  healed,  they  went  to  hide  themselves  in  the  mountains, 
where  they  lived  for  a  time,  shunned  and  feared.  But  my 
grandfather,  less  courageous  than  his  wife,  could  not  endure 
this  existence  and  hung  himself.  When  his  body  was  found, 
by  chance,  my  grandmother  was  accused  for  not  reporting 
his  death,  and  was  in  turn  condemned  to  be  flogged;  but  in 
consideration   of  her  state  her  punishment  was  deferred. 


1 88  An  Eagle  Flight 


She  gave  birth  to  another  son,  unhappily  sound  and  strong; 
two  months  later  her  sentence  was  carried  out.  Then  she 
took  her  two  children  and  fled  into  a  neighboring  prov- 
ince. 

The  elder  of  the  sons  remembered  that  he  had  once  been 
happy.  As  soon  as  he  was  old  enough  he  became  a  tulisan 
to  avenge  his  wrongs,  and  the  name  of  Balat  spread  terror 
in  many  provinces.  The  younger  son,  endowed  by  nature 
with  a  gentle  disposition,  stayed  with  his  mother,  both  liv- 
ing on  the  fruits  of  the  forest  and  dressing  in  the  cast-off 
rags  of  those  charitable  enough  to  give.  At  length  the 
famous  Bilat  fell  into  the  hands  of  justice,  and  paid  a 
dreadful  penalty  for  his  crimes,  to  that  society  which  had 
never  done  anything  to  teach  him  better  than  to  commit 
them.  One  morning  the  young  brother,  who  had  been  in 
the  forest  gathering  fruits,  came  back  to  find  the  dead  body 
of  his  mother  in  front  of  their  cabin,  the  horror-stricken  eyes 
staring  upward;  and  following  them  with  his  own,  the  un- 
happy boy  saw  suspended  from  a  limb  the  bloody  head  of 
his  brother. 

"My  God!"  cried  Ibarra. 

*'  It  is  perhaps  the  cry  that  escaped  the  lips  of  my  father," 
said  Elias  coldly.  "  Like  a  condemned  criminal,  he  fled 
across  mountains  and  valleys.  When  he  thought  himself 
far  enough  away  to  have  lost  his  identity,  he  found  work 
with  a  rich  man  of  the  province  of  Tayabas.  His  industry 
and  the  sweetness  of  his  disposition  gained  him  favor. 
Here  he  stayed,  economized,  got  a  little  capital,  and  as  he 
was  yet  young,  thought  to  be  happy.  He  won  the  love  of  a 
girl  of  the  pueblo,  but  delayed  asking  for  her  hand,  fearing 
that  his  past  might  be  uncovered.  At  length,  when  love's 
indiscretion  bore  fruit,  to  save  her  reputation  he  was 
obliged  to  risk  everything.  He  asked  to  marry  her,  his 
papers  were  demanded,  and   the   truth  was   learned.     As 


The  Family  of  Elias  189 

the  father  was  rich,  he  instituted  a  prosecution.  The  un- 
happy young  man  made  no  defence,  and  was  sent  to  the 
garrison. 

Our  mother  bore  twins,  my  sister  and  me.  She  died 
while  we  were  yet  young,  and  we  were  told  that  our  father 
was  dead  also.  As  our  grandfather  was  rich,  we  had  a 
happy  childhood ;  we  were  always  together,  and  loved  each 
other  as  only  twins  can.  I  was  sent  very  early  to  the  col- 
lege of  the  Jesuits,  and  my  sister  to  La  Concordia,  that  we 
might  not  be  completely  separated.  In  time  we  returned  to 
take  possession  of  our  grandfather's  property.  We  had 
many  servants  and  rich  fields.  We  were  both  happy,  and 
my  sister  was  affianced  to  a  man  she  adored. 

By  my  haughtiness,  perhaps,  and  for  pecuniary  reasons, 
I  had  won  the  dislike  of  a  distant  relative.  He  threw  in 
my  face  the  obscurity  of  our  origin  and  the  dishonor  of  our 
race.  Believing  it  calumny,  I  demanded  satisfaction ;  the 
tomb  where  so  many  miseries  sleep  was  opened,  and  the 
truth  came  forth  to  confound  me.  To  crown  all,  there  had 
been  with  us  many  years  an  old  servant,  who  had  suffered 
all  my  caprices  without  complaint.  I  do  not  know  how  our 
relative  found  it  out,  but  he  brought  the  old  man  before  the 
court  and  made  him  declare  the  truth:  he  was  our  father. 
Our  happiness  was  ended.  I  gave  up  my  inheritance,  my 
sister  lost  her  fiance,  and  with  our  father  we  left  the  pueblo, 
to  live  where  he  might.  The  thought  of  the  unhappiness 
he  had  brought  upon  us  shortened  our  father's  days,  and 
my  sister  and  I  were  left  alone.  She  could  not  forget  her 
lover,  and  little  by  little  I  saw  her  droop.  One  day  she 
disappeared,  and  I  searched  everywhere  for  her  in  vain. 
Six  months  afterward,  I  learned  that  at  the  time  I  lost  her 
there  had  been  found  on  the  lake  shore  of  Calamba  the 
body  of  a  young  woman  drowned  or  assassinated,  A  knife, 
they  said,  was  buried  in  her  breast.     From  what  they  told 


190  An  Eagle  Flight 

me  of  her  dress  and  her  beauty,  I  recognized  my  sister. 
Since  then  I  have  wandered  from  province  to  province,  my 
reputation  and  my  story  following  in  time.  Many  things 
are  attributed  to  me,  often  unjustly,  but  I  continue  my 
way  and  take  little  account  of  men.  You  have  my  story, 
and  that  of  one  of  the  judgments  of  our  brothers! " 

Elias  rowed  on  in  a  silence  which  was  for  some  time  un- 
broken. 

"  I  believe  you  are  not  wrong  when  you  say  that  justice 
should  interest  herself  in  the  education  of  criminals,"  said 
Crisdstomo  at  length ;  "  but  it  is  impossible,  it  is  Utopia ; 
where  get  the  money  necessary  to  create  so  many  new 
offices  ?  " 

"Why  not  use  the  priests,  who  vaunt  their  mission  of 
peace  and  love?  Can  it  be  more  meritorious  to  sprinkle  a 
child's  head  with  water  than  to  wake,  in  the  darkened 
conscience  of  a  criminal,  that  spark  lighted  by  God  in  every 
soul  to  guide  it  in  the  search  for  truth?  Can  it  be  more 
humane  to  accompany  a  condemned  man  to  the  gallows 
than  to  help  him  in  the  hard  path  that  leads  from  vice  to 
virtue  ?  And  the  spies,  the  executioners,  the  guards,  do  not 
they  too  cost  money  ?  " 

"  My  friend,  if  I  believed  all  this,  what  could  I  do?  " 

"Alone,  nothing;  but  if  the  people  sustained  you? " 

"  I  shall  never  be  the  one  to  lead  the  people  when  they 
try  to  obtain  by  force  what  the  Government  does  not  think 
it  time  to  give  them.  If  I  should  see  the  people  armed,  I 
should  range  myself  on  the  side  of  the  Government.  I  do 
not  recognize  my  country  in  a  mob.  I  desire  her  good; 
that  is  why  I  build  a  school.  I  seek  this  good  through  in- 
struction; without  light  there  is  no  route." 

"Without  struggle,  no  liberty;  without  liberty,  no  light. 
You  say  you  know  your  country  little.  I  believe  you.  You 
do  not  see  the  conflict  coming,  the  cloud  on  the  horizon : 


The  Family  of  Elias  191 

the  struggle  begun  in  the  sphere  of  the  mind  is  going  to 
descend  to  the  arena  of  blood.  Listen  to  the  voice  of 
God;  woe  to  those  who  resist  it!  History  shall  not  be 
theirs!" 

Elias  was  transfigured.  He  stood  uncovered,  his  manly 
face  illumined  by  the  white  light  of  the  moon.  He  shook 
his  mane  of  hair  and  continued: 

"Do  you  not  see  how  everything  is  waking?  The  sleep 
has  lasted  centuries,  but  some  day  the  lightning  will  strike, 
and  the  bolt,  instead  of  bringing  ruin,  will  bring  life.  Do 
you  not  see  minds  in  travail  with  new  tendencies,  and  know 
that  these  tendencies,  diverse  now,  will  some  day  be  guided 
by  God  into  one  way?  God  has  not  failed  other  peoples; 
He  will  not  fail  us!  " 

The  words  were  followed  by  solemn  silence.  The  boat, 
drawn  on  by  the  waves,  was  nearing  the  bank.  Elias  was 
the  first  to  speak. 

*'  What  shall  I  say  to  those  who  sent  me?  " 

"  That  they  must  wait.  I  pity  their  situation,  but  progress 
is  slow,  and  there  is  always  much  of  our  own  fault  in  our 
misfortunes." 

Elias  said  no  more.  He  lowered  his  eyes  and  continued 
to  row.  When  the  boat  touched  the  shore,  he  took  leave  of 
Ibarra. 

"  I  thank  you,  senor,"  he  said,  "  for  your  kindness  to  me, 
and,  in  your  own  interest,  I  ask  you  to  forget  me  from  this 
day." 

When  Ibarra  was  gone,  Elias  guided  his  boat  toward  a 
clump  of  reeds  along  the  shore.  His  attention  seemed 
absorbed  in  the  thousands  of  diamonds  that  rose  with  the 
oar,  and  fell  back  and  disappeared  in  the  mystery  of  the 
gentle  azure  waves.  When  he  touched  land,  a  man  came 
out  from  among  the  reeds. 

"What  shall  I  say  to  the  captain? "  he  asked. 


192  An  Eagle  Flight 

"Tell  him  Elias,  if  he  lives,  will  keep  his  word,"  re- 
plied the  helmsman  sadly. 

"  And  when  will  you  join  us? " 

'*  When  your  captain  thinks  the  hour  has  come." 

"  That  is  well ;  adieu !  " 

"If  I  live!"  repeated  Elias,  under  his  breath. 


XLIII. 

IL    BUON   DI   SI   CONOSCE   DA    MATTINA. 

While  Ibarra  and  Elias  were  on  the  lake,  old  Tasio,  ill 
in  his  solitary  little  house,  and  Don  Filipo,  who  had  come 
to  see  him,  were  also  talking  of  the  country.  For  several 
days  the  old  philosopher,  or  fool — as  you  find  him— pros- 
trated by  a  rapidly  increasing  feebleness,  had  not  left  his 
bed. 

"The  country,"  he  was  saying  to  Don  Filipo,  "isn't 
what  it  was  twenty  years  ago." 

"  Do  you  think  so?  " 

"Don't  you  see  it?"  asked  the  old  man,  sitting  up.  "Ah! 
you  did  not  know  the  past.  Hear  the  students  of  to-day 
talking.  New  names  are  spoken  under  the  arches  that  once 
heard  only  those  of  Saint  Thomas,  Suarez,  Amat,  and  the 
other  idols  of  my  day.  In  vain  the  monks  cry  from  the 
chair  against  the  demoralization  of  the  times;  in  vain  the 
convents  extend  their  ramifications  to  strangle  the  new 
ideas.  The  roots  of  a  tree  may  influence  the  parasites 
growing  on  it,  but  they  are  powerless  against  the  bird, 
which,  from  the  branches,  mounts  triumphant  toward  the 
sky!" 

The  old  man  spoke  with  animation,  and  his  eye  shone. 

"  And  yet  the  new  germ  is  very  feeble,"  said  the  lieuten- 
ant. "If  they  all  set  about  it,  the  progress  already  so 
dearly  paid  for  may  yet  be  choked." 

"Choke  it?  Who?  The  weak  dwarf,  man,  to  choke 
progress,  the  powerful  child  of  time  and  energy?     When 


194  An  Eagle  Flight 

has  he  done  that?  He  has  tried  dogma,  the  scaffold,  and 
the  stake,  but  E  pur  si  muove  is  the  device  of  progress. 
Wills  are  thwarted,  individuals  sacrificed.  What  does  that 
mean  to  progress?  She  goes  her  way,  and  the  blood  of 
those  who  fall  enriches  the  soil  whence  spring  her  new 
shoots.  The  Dominicans  themselves  do  not  escape  this 
law,  and  they  are  beginning  to  imitate  the  Jesuits,  their 
irreconcilable  enemies." 

"Do  you  hold  that  the  Jesuits  move  with  progress?" 
asked  the  astonished  Don  Filipo.  "Then  why  are  they 
so  attacked  in  Europe  ?  " 

"  I  reply  as  did  once  an  ecclesiastic  of  old,"  said  the 
philosopher,  laying  his  head  back  on  the  pillow  and 
putting  on  his  mocking  air,  "  that  there  are  three  ways  of 
moving  with  progress:  ahead,  beside,  behind;  the  first 
guide,  the  second  follow,  the  third  are  dragged.  The 
Jesuits  are  of  these  last.  At  present,  in  the  Philippines, 
we  are  about  three  centuries  behind  the  van  of  the  general 
movement.  The  Jesuits,  who  in  Europe  are  the  reaction, 
viewed  from  here  represent  progress.  For  instance,  the  Phil- 
ippines owe  to  them  the  introduction  of  the  natural  sciences, 
the  soul  of  the  nineteenth  century.  As  for  ourselves,  at 
this  moment  we  are  entering  a  period  of  strife :  strife  be- 
tween the  past  which  grapples  to  itself  the  tumbling  feudal 
castle,  and  the  future  whose  song  may  be  heard  afar  off, 
bringing  us  from  distant  lands  the  tidings  of  good  news." 

The  old  man  stopped,  but  seeing  the  expression  of  Don 
Filipo  he  smiled  and  went  on. 

"  I  can  almost  divine  what  you  are  thinking." 

"Can  you?" 

"  You  are  thinking  that  I  may  easily  be  wrong ;  to-day  I 
have  the  fever,  and  I  am  never  infallible.  But  it  is  per- 
mitted us  to  dream.  Why  not  make  the  dreams  agreeable  in 
the  last  hours  of  life?     You  are  right:  I  do  dream  I     Our 


II  Buon   Di  Si  Conosce  Da  Mattina      195 

young  men  think  of  nothing  but  loves  and  pleasures;  our 
men  of  riper  years  have  no  activity  but  in  vice,  serve  only 
to  corrupt  youth  with  their  example;  youth  spends  its  best 
years  without  ideal,  and  childhood  wakes  to  life  in  rust 
and  darkness.  It  is  well  to  die.  Claudite  jam  rivos, 
pueri." 

"  Is  it  time  for  your  medicine?  "  asked  Don  Filipo,  see- 
ing the  cloud  on  the  old  man's  face. 

"  The  parting  have  no  need  of  medicine,  but  those  who 
stay,     tn  a  few  days  I  shall  be  gone.     The  Philippines  are 
in  the  shadows." 
14 


XLIV. 

LA     GALLERA. 

To  keep  holy  the  afternoon  of  Sunday  in  Spain,  one 
goes  ordinarily  to  the  plaza  de  toros;  in  the  Philippines, 
to  the  gallera.  Cock-fights,  introduced  in  the  country  about 
a  century  ago,  are  to-day  one  of  the  vices  of  the  people. 
The  Chinese  can  more  easily  deprive  themselves  of  opium 
than  the  Filipinos  of  this  bloody  sport. 

The  poor,  wishing  to  get  money  without  work,  risks  here 
the  little  he  has;  the  rich  seeks  a  distraction  at  the  price 
of  whatever  loose  coin  feasts  and  masses  leave  him.  The 
education  of  their  cocks  costs  both  much  pains,  often  more 
than  that  of  their  sons. 

Since  the  Government  permits  and  almost  recommends 
it,  let  us  take  our  part  in  the  sport,  sure  of  meeting 
friends. 

The  gallera  of  San  Diego,  like  most  others,  is  divided 
into  three  courts.  In  the  entry  is  taken  the  sa  pintii,  that 
is,  the  price  of  admission.  Of  this  price  the  Government 
has  a  share,  and  its  revenues  from  this  source  are  some 
hundred  thousand  pesos  a  year.  It  is  said  this  license  fee 
of  vice  serves  to  build  schools,  open  roads,  span  rivers,  and 
establish  prizes  for  the  encouragement  of  industry.  Blessed 
be  vice  when  it  produces  so  happy  results !  In  this  entry 
are  found  girls  selling  buyo,  cigars,  and  cakes.  Here 
gather  numerous  children,  brought  by  their  fathers  or 
uncles,  whose  duty  it  is  to  initiate  them  into  the  ways  of 
life. 


La  Gallera 


197 


In  the  second  court  are  most  of  the  cocks.  Here  the 
contracts  are  made,  amid  recriminations,  oaths,  and  peals 
of  laughter.  One  caresses  his  cock,  while  another  counts 
the  scales  on  the  feet  of  his,  and  extends  the  wings.  See 
this  fellow,  rage  in  his  face  and  heart,  carrying  by  the  legs 
his  cock,  deplumed  and  dead.  The  animal  which  for 
months  has  been  tended  night  and  day,  on  which  such 
brilliant  hopes  were  built,  will  bring  a  peseta  and  make  a 
stew.  Sic  transit  gloria  mundi!  The  ruined  man  goes 
home  to  his  anxious  wife  and  ragged  children.  He  has 
lost  at  once  his  cock  and  the  price  of  his  industry.  Here 
the  least  intelligent  discuss  the  sport;  those  least  given 
to  thought  extend  the  wings  of  cocks,  feel  their  muscles, 
weigh,  and  ponder.  Some  are  dressed  in  elegance,  followed 
and  surrounded  by  the  partisans  of  their  cocks;  others, 
ragged  and  dirty,  the  stigma  of  vice  on  their  blighted  faces, 
follow  anxiously  the  movements  of  the  rich ;  the  purse  may 
get  empty,  the  passion  remains.  Here  not  a  face  that  is 
not  animated;  in  this  the  Filipino  is  not  indolent,  nor 
apathetic,  nor  silent;  all  is  movement,  passion.  One  would 
say  they  were  all  devoured  by  a  thirst  always  more  and 
more  excited  by  muddy  water. 

From  this  court  one  passes  to  the  pit,  a  circle  with  seats 
terraced  to  the  roof,  filled  during  the  combats  with  a  mass 
of  men  and  children;  scarcely  ever  does  a  woman  risk  her- 
self so  far.  Here  it  is  that  destiny  distributes  smiles  and 
tears,  hunger  and  joyous  feasts. 

Entering,  we  recognize  at  once  the  gobernadorcillo.  Cap- 
tain Basilio,  and  Jos^,  the  man  with  the  scar,  so  cast  down 
by  the  death  of  his  brother.  And  here  comes  Captain 
Tiago,  dressed  like  the  sporting  man,  in  a  canton  flannel 
shirt,  woollen  trousers,  and  a  jipijapa  hat.  He  is  followed 
by  two  servants  with  his  cocks.  A  combat  is  soon  arranged 
between  one  of  these  and  a  famous  cock  of  Captain  Basilio's. 


198  An  Eagle  Flight 

The  news  spreads,  and  a  crowd  gathers  round,  examining, 
considering,  forecasting,  betting. 

While  men  were  searching  their  pockets  for  their  last 
cuarto,  or  in  lieu  of  it  were  engaging  their  word,  promis- 
ing to  sell  the  carabao,  the  next  crop,  and  so  forth,  two 
young  fellows,  brothers  apparently,  looked  on  with  envious 
eyes.  ]os6  watched  them  by  stealth,  smiling  evilly.  Then 
making  the  pesos  sound  in  his  pocket,  he  passed  the 
brothers,  looking  the  other  way  and  crying: 

"  I  pay  fifty;  fifty  against  twenty  for  the  lasak!  " 

The  brothers  looked  at  each  other  discontentedly. 

"I  told  you  not  to  risk  all  the  money,"  said  the  elder. 
"  If  you  had  listened  to  me " 

The  younger  approached  Josd  and  timidly  touched  his 
arm. 

"What!  It's  you?"  he  cried,  turning  and  feigning  sur- 
prise.    "  Does  your  brother  accept  my  proposition  ?  " 

"  He  won't  do  it.  But  if  you  would  lend  us  something,  as 
you  say  you  know  us " 

]os6  shook  his  head,  shifted  his  position,  and  replied: 

"Yes,  I  know  you;  you  are  Tarsilo  and  Bruno;  and  I 
know  that  your  valiant  father  died  from  the  club  strokes  of 
these  soldiers.     I  know  you  don't  think  of  vengeance " 

"  Don't  concern  yourself  with  our  history,"  said  the  elder 
brother,  joining  them ;  "  that  brings  misfortune.  If  we 
hadn't  a  sister,  we  should  have  been  hanged  long  ago! " 

"Hanged!  Only  cowards  are  hanged.  Besides,  the 
mountain  isn't  so  far." 

"  A  hundred  against  fifty  for  the  biilik!  "  cried  some  one 
passing.  t 

"  Loan  us  four  pesos — three — two,"  begged  Bruno.  Jos^ 
again  shook  his  head. 

"  Sh !  the  money  isn't  mine.  Don  Crisdstomo  gave  it  to 
pie  for  those  who  are  willing  to  serve  him.     But  I  see  you 


La  Gallera  190 

are  not  like  your  father;  he  was  courageous.  The  man 
who  is  not  must  not  expect  to  divert  himself."  And  he 
moved  away. 

"See!  "  said  Bruno,  "he's  talking  with  Pedro;  he's  giv- 
ing him  a  lot  of  money!  "  And  in  truth  Josd  was  count- 
ing silver  pieces  into  the  palm  of  Sisa's  husband. 

Tarsilo  was  moody  and  thoughtful ;  with  his  shirt  sleeve 
he  wiped  the  sweat  from  his  forehead. 

"Brother,"  said  Bruno,  "  I'm  going,  if  you  don't;  our 
father  must  be  avenged!  " 

"Wait,"  said  Tarsilo,  gazing  into  his  eyes — they  were 
both  pale — "I'm  going  with  you.  You  are  right:  our 
father  must  be  avenged!  "  But  he  did  not  move,  and  again 
wiped  his  brow. 

"What  are  you  waiting  for?"  demanded  Bruno  im- 
patiently. 

"  Don't  you  think — our  poor  sister " 

"  Bah !  Isn't  Don  Crisdstomo  the  chief,  and  haven't  we 
seen  him  with  the  governor-general  .-*     What  risk  do  we  run  ?  " 

"And  if  we  die?  " 

"  Did  not  our  poor  father  die  under  their  clubs?  " 

"You  are  right!  " 

The  brothers  set  out  to  find  ]os6,  but  hesitation  again 
possessed  Tarsilo. 

"No;  come  away!  we're  going  to  ruin  ourselves ! "  he 
cried. 

"  Go  on  if  you  want  to.     I  shall  accept!  " 

"Bruno!" 

Unhappily  a  man  came  up  and  asked: 

"  Are  you  betting?     I'm  for  the  lasak." 

"  How  much  ?  "  demanded  Bruno. 

The  man  counted  his  pieces. 

" I  have  two  hundred;  fifty  against  forty!  " 

"No!  "  said  Bruno  resolutely. 


200  An  Eagle  Flight 

"  Good !     Fifty  against  thirty !  " 

"  Double  it  if  you  will." 

"A  hundred  against  sixty,  then!  " 

"Agreed!  Wait  while  I  go  for  the  money,"  and  turning 
to  his  brother  he  said : 

"Go  away  if  you  want  to;  I  shall  stay!  " 

Tarsi  lo  reflected.     He  loved  Bruno,  and  he  loved  sport. 

"  I  am  with  you,"  he  said.     They  found  ]os6. 

"Uncle,"  said  Tarsilo,  "how  much  will  you  give?" 
"  I've  told  you  already ;  if  you  will  promise  to  find  others 
to  help  surprise  the  quarters,  I'll  give  you  thirty  pesos 
each,  and  ten  to  each  companion.  If  all  goes  well,  they 
will  each  receive  a  hundred,  and  you  double.  Don  Crisds- 
tomo  is  rich!  " 

"Agreed!  "  cried  Bruno;  "give  us  the  money!  " 

"I  knew  you  were  like  your  father!  Come  this  way,  so 
that  those  who  killed  him  cannot  hear  us,"  said  ]os6.  And 
drawing  them  into  a  comer,  he  added  as  he  counted  out 
the  money: 

"  Don  Crisdstomo  has  come  and  brought  the  arms.  To- 
morrow night  at  eight  o'clock  meet  me  in  the  cemetery. 
I  will  give  you  the  final  word.  Go  find  your  companions." 
And  he  left  them. 

The  brothers  appeared  to  have  exchanged  roles.  Tarsilo 
now  seemed  undisturbed;  Bruno  was  pale.  They  went 
back  to  the  crowd,  which  was  leaving  the  circle  for  the  raised 
seats.  Little  by  little  the  place  became  silent.  Only  the 
soltadores  were  left  in  the  ring  holding  two  cocks,  with  ex- 
aggerated care,  looking  out  for  wounds.  The  silence  be- 
came solemn;  the  spectators  became  mere  caricatures  of 
men ;  the  fight  was  about  to  begin. 


XLV. 

A  CALL. 

Two  days  later  Brother  Salvi  presented  himself  at  the 
house  <Jf  Captain  Tiago.  The  Franciscan  was  more  gaunt 
and  pale  than  usual ;  but  as  he  went  up  the  steps  a  strange 
light  shone  in  his  eyes,  and  his  lips  parted  in  a  strange 
smile.  Captain  Tiago  kissed  his  hand,  and  took  his  hat 
and  cane,  smiling  beatifically. 

"  I  bring  good  news,"  said  the  curate  as  he  entered  the 
drawing-room;  "good  news  for  everybody.  I  have  letters 
from  Manila  confirming  the  one  Senor  Ibarra  brought  me, 
so  that  I  believe,  Don  Santiago,  the  obstacle  is  quite  re- 
moved." 

Maria  Clara,  seated  at  the  piano,  made  a  movement  to 
rise,  but  her  strength  failed  her  and  she  had  to  sit  down 
again.  Linares  grew  pale;  Captain  Tiago  lowered  his 
eyes. 

"  The  young  man  seems  to  me  very  sympathetic,"  said  the 
curate.  "At  first  I  misjudged  him.  He  is  impulsive,  but 
when  he  commits  a  fault,  he  knows  so  well  how  to  atone  for 
it  that  one   is  forced  to  forgive  him.     If  it  were  not  for 

Father  Damaso "     And  the  curate  flashed  a  glance  at 

Maria  Clara.  She  was  listening  with  all  her  being,  but  did 
not  take  her  eyes  off  her  music,  in  spite  of  the  pinches  that 
were  expressing  Sinang's  joy.  Had  they  been  alone  they 
would  have  danced. 

"  But  Father  Damaso  has  said,"  continued  the  curate,  with- 
out losing  sight  of  Maria  Clara,  "  that  as  godfather  he  could 


202  An  Eagle  Flight 

not  permit;  but,  indeed,  I  believe  if  Senor  Ibarra  will  ask 
his  pardon  everything  will  arrange  itself." 

Maria  rose,  made  an  excuse,  and  with  Victorina  left  the 
room. 

"  And  if  Father  Damaso  does  not  pardon  him  ?  "  asked 
Don  Santiago  in  a  low  voice. 

"Then  Maria  Clara  must  decide.  But  I  believe  the 
matter  can  be  arranged." 

The  sound  of  an  arrival  was  heard,  and  Ibarra  entered. 
His  coming  made  a  strange  impression.  Captain  Tiago  did 
not  know  whether  to  smile  or  weep.  Father  Salvi  rose  and 
offered  his  hand  so  affectionately  that  Crisdstomo  could 
scarcely  repress  a  look  of  surprise. 

"  Where  have  you  been  all  day  ? "  demanded  wicked 
Sinang.  "  We  asked  each  other :  *  What  can  have  taken 
that  soul  newly  rescued  from  perdition  ? '  and  each  of  us 
had  her  opinion." 

"And  am  I  to  know  what  each  opinion  was? " 

"No,  not  yet!  Tell  me  where  you  went,  so  I  can  see 
who  made  the  best  guess." 

"  That's  a  secret  too ;  but  I  can  tell  you  by  yourself  if 
these  gentlemen  will  permit." 

"  Certainly,  certainly?  "  said  Father  Salvi.  Sinang  drew 
Crisostomo  to  the  other  end  of  the  great  room. 

"Tell  me,  little  friend,"  said  he,  "is  Maria  angry  with 
me?" 

"  I  don't  know.  She  says  you  had  best  forget  her,  and 
then  she  cries.  This  morning  when  we  were  wondering 
where  you  were  I  said  to  tease  her:  *  Perhaps  he  has  gone  a- 
courting.'  But  she  was  quite  grave,  and  said :  '  It  is  God's 
will!'" 

"Tell  Maria  I  must  see  her  alone,"  said  Ibarra,  trou- 
bled. 

"It  will  be  difficult,  but  I'll  try  to  manage  it." 


A  Call 


203 


"And  when  shall  I  know?  " 

"  To-morrow.  But  you  are  going  without  telling  me  the 
secret ! " 

"  So  I  am.  Well,  I  went  to  the  pueblo  of  Los  Banos  to 
see  about  some  cocoanut  trees! " 

"  What  a  secret !  "  cried  Sinang  aloud  in  a  tone  of  a  usurer 
despoiled. 

"  Take  care,  I  really  don't  want  you  to  speak  of  it." 

"  I'v^  no  desire  to,"  said  Sinang  scornfully.  "  If  it  had 
been  really  of  importance  I  should  have  told  my  friends; 
but  cocoanuts,  cocoanuts,  who  cares  about  cocoanuts !  "  and 
she  ran  off  to  find  Maria. 

Conversation  languished,  and  Ibarra  soon  took  his  leave. 
Captain  Tiago  was  torn  between  the  bitter  and  the  sweet. 
Linares  said  nothing.  Only  the  curate  affected  gayety  and 
recounted  tales. 


XLVI. 

A    CONSPIRACY. 

The  bell  was  announcing  the  time  of  prayer  the  evening 
after.  At  its  sound  every  one  stopped  his  work  and  uncov- 
ered. The  laborer  coming  from  the  fields  checked  his  song; 
the  woman  in  the  streets  crossed  herself;  the  man  caressed 
his  cock  and  said  the  Angelus,  that  chance  might  favor  him. 
And  yet  the  curate,  to  the  great  scandal  of  pious  old  ladies, 
was  running  through  the  street  toward  the  house  of  the  al- 
f^rez.  He  dashed  up  the  steps  and  knocked  impatiently. 
The  alfdrez  opened. 

"Ah,  father,  I  was  just  going  to  see  you;  your  young 
buck " 

"  I've  something  very  important "  began  the  breath- 
less curate. 

"  I  can't  allow  the  fences  to  be  broken ;  if  he  comes  back, 
I  shall  fire  on  him." 

"  Who  knows  whether  to-morrow  you  will  be  alive,"  said 
the  curate,  going  on  toward  the  reception-room. 

*'  What?     You  think  that  youngster  is  going  to  kill  me?  " 

"  Senor  alf^rez,  the  lives  of  all  of  us  are  in  danger!  " 

"What?" 

The  curate  pointed  to  the  door,  which  the  alf^rez  closed 
in  his  customary  fashion. 

"  Now,  go  ahead,"  he  said  calmly. 

"  Did  you  see  how  I  ran  ?  When  I  thus  forget  myself, 
there  is  some  grave  reason." 

"  And  this  time  it  is " 


A  Conspiracy  20C 

The  curate  approached  him  and  spoke  low. 

"Do  you— know — of  nothing — new?  " 

The  alfdrez  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Are  you  speaking  of  Elias?  " 

"  No,  no !     I'm  speaking  of  a  great  peril ! " 

"  Well,  finish  then !  "  cried  the  exasperated  alf^rez. 

The  curate  lowered  his  voice  mysteriously : 

"  I  have  discovered  a  conspiracy !  " 

The  "alfdrez  gave  a  spring  and  looked  at  the  curate  in 
stupefaction. 

"  A  terrible  conspiracy,  well  organized,  that  is  to  break 
out  to-night!" 

The  alferez  rushed  across  the  room,  took  down  his  sabre 
from  the  wall,  and  grasped  his  revolver. 

"Whom  shall  I  arrest?  "  he  cried. 

"  Be  calm !  There  is  plenty  of  time,  thanks  to  the  haste 
with  which  I  came.     At  eight  o'clock ■" 

"They  shall  be  shot,  all  of  them!  " 

"Listen!  It  is  a  secret  of  the  confessional,  discovered 
to  me  by  a  woman.  At  eight  o'clock  they  are  to  surprise 
the  barracks,  sack  the  convent,  and  assassinate  all  the  Span- 
iards." 

The  alfdrez  stood  dumbfounded. 

"  Be  ready  for  them ;  ambush  your  soldiers ;  send  me  four 
guards  for  the  convent!  You  will  earn  your  promotion  to- 
night! I  only  ask  you  to  make  it  known  that  it  was  I  who 
warned  you."  , 

"It  shall  be  known,  father;  it  shall  be  known,  and,  per- 
haps, it  will  bring  down  a  mitre!  "  replied  the  alferez,  his 
eyes  on  the  sleeves  of  his  uniform. 

While  this  conversation  was  in  progress,  Elias  was  run- 
ning toward  the  house  of  Ibarra.  He  entered  and  was 
shown  to  the  laboratory,  where  Crisdstomo  was  passing  the 
time  until  the  hour  of  his  appointment  with  Maria  Clara. 


2o6  An  Eagle  Flight 

"Ah!  It  is  you,  Elias?"  he  said,  without  noticing  the 
tremor  of  the  helmsman.  "See  here!  I've  just  made  a 
discovery :  this  piece  of  bamboo  is  non-combustible." 

"  Senor,  there  is  no  time  to  talk  of  that;  take  your  papers 
and  flee!" 

Ibarra  looked  up  amazed,  and,  seeing  the  gravity  of  the 
helmsman's  face,  let  fall  the  piece  of  bamboo. 

"  Leave  nothing  behind  that  could  compromise  you,  and 
may  an  hour  from  this  time  find  you  in  a  safer  place  than 
this!" 

"  What  does  all  this  mean? " 

"  That  there  is  a  conspiracy  on  foot  which  will  be  attrib- 
uted to  you.  I  have  this  moment  been  talking  with  a  man 
hired  to  take  part  in  it." 

"  Did  he  tell  you  who  paid  him?  " 

"  He  said  it  was  you." 

Ibarra  stared  in  stupid  amazement. 

"  Senor,  you  havn't  a  moment  to  lose.  The  plot  is  to  be 
carried  out  to-night." 

Crisostomo  still  gazed  at  Elias,  as  if  he  did  not  under- 
stand. 

"I  learned  of  it  too  late;  I  don't  know  the  leaders;  I  can 
do  nothing.     Save  yourself,  senor!  " 

"  Where  can  I  go  ?  I  am  due  now  at  Captain  Tiago's," 
said  Ibarra,  beginning  to  come  out  of  his  trance. 

"  To  another  pueblo,  to  Manila,  anywhere!  Destroy  your 
papers!     Fly,  and  await  events!  " 

"And  Maria  Clara?     No!     Better  die!" 

Elias  wrung  his  hands. 

"  Prepare  for  the  accusation,  at  all  events.  Destroy  your 
papers ! " 

"  Aid  me  then,"  said  Crisdstomo,  in  almost  helpless  be- 
wilderment. "They  are  in  tliese  cabinets.  My  father's 
letters  might  compromise  me.     You  will  know  them  by  the 


A  Conspiracy  207 

addresses."  And  he  tore  open  one  drawer  after  another. 
Elias  worked  to  better  purpose,  choosing  here,  rejecting 
there.  Suddenly  he  stopped,  his  pupils  dilated ;  he  turned 
a  paper  over  and  over  in  his  hand,  then  in  a  trembling  voice 
he  asked: 

"Your  family  knew  Don  Pedro  Eibarramendia  ?  " 
"  He  was  my  great-grandfather." 
"Your  great-grandfather?"  repeated  Elias,  livid. 
"Ye»,"  said  Ibarra  mechanically,  and  totally  unobserv- 
ant of  Elias.     "The  name  was  too  long;  we  cut  it." 
"  Was  he  a  Basque?  "  asked  Elias  slowly. 
"Yes;    but  what  ails  you?"  said  Crisdstomo,   looking 
round  and  recoiling  before  the  hard  face  and  clenched  fists 
of  Elias. 

"Do  you  know  who  Don  Pedro  Eibarramendia  was? 
Don  Pedro  Eibarramendia  was  the  wretch  who  caused  all 
our  misfortune!  I  have  long  been  searching  for  his  de- 
scendants; God  has  delivered  you  into  my  hands!  Look  at 
me!  Do  you  think  I  have  suffered?  And  you  live,  and 
you  love,  and  have  a  fortune  and  a  home;  you  live,  you 
live!"  and,  beside  himself,  he  ran  toward  a  collection  of 
arms  on  the  wall.  But  no  sooner  had  he  reached  down  two 
poniards  than  he  dropped  them,  looking  blindly  at  Ibarra, 
who  stood  rigid. 

"What  was  I  going  to  do?"  he  said  under  his  breath, 
and  he  fled  like  a  madman. 


XLVII. 

THE   CATASTROPHE. 

Captain  Tiago,  Aunt  Isabel,  and  Linares  were  dining. 
Maria  Clara  had  said  she  was  not  hungry,  and  was  at  the 
piano  with  Sinang.  The  two  girls  had  arranged  this  mo- 
ment for  meeting  Ibarra  away  from  too  watchful  eyes.  The 
clock  struck  eight. 

"He's  coming!     Listen!"  cried  the  laughing  Sinang. 

He  entered,  white  and  sad.  Maria  Clara,  in  alarm, 
started  toward  him,  but  before  any  one  could  speak  a  fusi- 
lade  sounded  in  the  street;  then  random  pistol  shots,  and 
cries  and  clamor.  Crisdstomo  seemed  glued  to  the  floor. 
The  diners  came  running  in  crying:  "The  tulisanes!  The 
tulisanes!  "  Aunt  Isabel  fell  on  her  knees  half  dead  from 
fright.  Captain  Tiago  was  weeping.  Some  one  rushed  about 
fastening  the  windows.  The  tumult  continued  outside;  then 
little  by  little  there  fell  a  dreadful  silence.  Presently  the 
alf^rez  was  heard  crying  out  as  he  ran  through  the  street: 

"  Father  Salvi !     Father  Salvi !  " 

"  Mercy !  "  exclaimed  Aunt  Isabel.  "  The  alf^rez  is  ask- 
ing for  confession! " 

"  The  alfdrez  is  wounded !  "  murmured  Linares,  with  an 
expression  of  the  utmost  relief. 

"The  tulisanes  have  killed  the  alfdrez!  Maria,  Sinang, 
into  your  chamber!     Barricade  the  door!  " 

In  spite  of  the  protests  of  Aunt  Isabel,  Ibarra  went  out 
into  the  street.  Everything  seemed  turning  round  and  round 
him;    his  ears  rang;    he  could  scarcely  move  his  limbs. 


The   Catastrophe  209 

Spots  of  blood,  flashes  of  light  and  darkness  alternated  be- 
fore his  eyes.  The  streets  were  deserted,  but  the  barracks 
were  in  confusion,  and  voices  came  from  the  tribunal,  that 
of  the  alfdrez  dominating  all  the  others.  Ibarra  passed  un- 
challenged, and  reached  his  home,  where  his  servants  were 
anxiously  watching  for  him. 

"  Saddle  me  the  best  horse  and  go  to  bed,"  he  said  to 
them. 

He  entered  his  cabinet  and  began  to  pack  a  valise.  He 
had  put  In  his  money  and  jewels  and  Maria's  picture  and 
was  gathering  up  his  papers  when  there  came  three  resound- 
ing knocks  at  the  house  door. 

"Open  in  the  name  of  the  King!  Open  or  we  force  the 
door!  "  said  an  imperious  voice.  Ibarra  armed  himself  and 
looked  toward  the  window;  then  changed  his  mind,  threw 
down  his  revolver,  and  went  to  the  door.  Three  guards  im- 
mediately seized  him. 

"  I  make  you  prisoner  in  the  name  of  the  King !  "  said  the 
sergeant. 

"Why?" 

"  You  will  learn  at  the  tribunal ;  I  am  forbidden  to  talk 
with  you." 

"  I  am  at  your  disposition.  It  will  not  be  for,  I  suppose, 
long." 

"  If  you  promise  not  to  try  to  escape  us,  we  may  leave 
your  hands  free ;  the  alfe'rez  grants  you  that  favor." 

Crisdstomo  took  his  hat  and  followed  the  guards,  leaving 
his  servants  in  consternation. 

Elias,  after  leaving  the  house  of  Ibarra,  ran  like  a  mad- 
man, not  knowing  whither.  He  crossed  the  fields  and 
reached  the  wood.  He  was  fleeing  from  men  and  their 
habitations;  he  was  fleeing  from  light;  the  moon  made  him 
suffer.  He  buried  himself  in  the  mysterious  silence  of  the 
wood.     The  birds  stirred,  wakened  from  their  sleep;  owls 


21  o  An  Eagle  Flight 


flew  from  branch  to  branch,  screeching  or  looking  at  him 
with  great,  round  eyes.  Elias  did  not  see  or  hear  them;  he 
thought  he  was  followed  by  the  irate  shades  of  his  ancestors. 
From  every  branch  hung  the  bleeding  head  of  Balat.  At 
the  foot  of  every  tree  he  stumbled  against  the  cold  body  of 
his  grandmother;  among  the  shadows  swung  the  skeleton  of 
his  infamous  grandfather;  an4  the  skeleton,  the  body,  and 
the  bleeding  head  cried  out:  "  Coward!     Coward!  " 

He  ran  on.  He  left  the  mountain  and  went  down  to  the 
lake,  moving  feverishly  along  the  shore;  his  wandering 
eyes  became  fixed  upon  a  point  on  the  tranquil  surface,  and 
there,  surrounded  by  a  silver  nimbus  and  rocked  by  the  tide, 
stood  a  shade  which  he  seemed  to  recognize.  Yes,  that  was 
her  hair,  so  long  and  beautiful ;  yes,  that  was  her  breast, 
gaping  from  the  poniard  stroke.  And  the  wretched  man, 
kneeling  in  the  sand,  stretched  out  his  arms  to  the  cherished 
vision : 

"Thou!     Thou,  too!"  he  cried. 

His  eyes  fixed  on  the  apparition,  he  rose,  entered  the 
water  and  descended  the  gentle  slope  of  the  beach.  Already 
he  was  far  from  the  bank;  the  waves  lapped  his  waist;  but 
he  went  on  fascinated.  The  water  reached  his  breast.  Did 
he  know  it?  Suddenly  a  volley  tore  the  air;  the  night  was 
so  calm  that  the  rifle  shots  sounded  clear  and  sharp.  He 
stopped,  listened,  came  to  himself;  the  shade  vanished;  the 
dream  was  gone.  He  perceived  that  he  was  in  the  lake, 
level  with  his  eyes  across  the  tranquil  water  he  saw  the 
lights  in  the  poor  cabins  of  fishermen.  Everything  came 
back  to  him.  He  made  for  the  shore  and  went  rapidly  tow- 
ard the  pueblo. 

San  Diego  was  deserted;  the  houses  were  closed;  even 
the  dogs  had  hidden  themselves.  The  glittering  light  that 
bathed  everything  detached  the  shadows  boldly,  making  the 
solitude  still  more  dreary. 


The  Catastrophe  211 

Fearing  to  encounter  the  guards,  Elias  scaled  fences  and 
hedges,  and  so,  making  his  way  through  the  gardens,  reached 
the  home  of  Ibarra.  The  servants  were  around  the  door 
lamenting  the  arrest  of  their  master.  Elias  learned  what 
had  happened,  and  made  feint  of  going  away,  but  returned 
to  the  back  of  the  house,  jumped  the  wall,  climbed  into  a 
window  and  made  his  way  to  the  laboratory.  He  saw  the 
papers,  the  arms  taken  down,  the  bags  of  money  and  jewels, 
Maria's  picture,  and  had  a  vision  of  Ibarra  surprised  by  the 
soldiers.''  He  meditated  a  moment  and  decided  to  bury  the 
things  of  value  in  the  garden.  He  gathered  them  up,  went 
to  the  window,  and  saw  gleaming  in  the  moonlight  the 
casques  and  bayonets  of  the  guard.  His  plans  were 
quickly  laid.  He  hid  about  his  person  the  money  and 
jewels,  and,  after  an  instant's  hesitation,  the  picture  of 
Maria.  Then,  heaping  all  the  papers  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  he  saturated  them  with  oil  from  a  lamp,  threw  the 
lighted  candle  in  the  midst,  and  sprang  out  of  the  window. 
It  was  none  too  soon :  the  guards  were  forcing  entrance 
against  the  protests  of  the  servants. 

But  dense  smoke  made  its  way  through  the  house  and 
tongues  of  flame  began  to  break  out.  Soldiers  and  servants 
together  cried  fire  and  rushed  toward  the  cabinet,  but  the 
flames  had  reached  the  chemicals,  and  their  explosion  drove 
every  one  back.  The  water  the  servants  could  bring  was 
useless,  and  the  house  stood  so  apart  that  their  cries  brought 
no  aid.  The  flames  leaped  upward  amid  great  spirals  of 
smoke;  the  house,  long  respected  by  the  elements,  was  now 
their  prisoner. 
'5 


XLVIII. 

GOSSIP. 

It  was  not  yet  dawn.  The  street  in  which  were  the  bar- 
racks and  tribunal  was  still  deserted ;  none  of  its  houses 
gave  a  sign  of  life.  Suddenly  the  shutter  of  a  window 
opened  with  a  bang  and  a  child's  head  appeared,  looking  in 
all  directions,  the  little  neck  stretched  to  its  utmost — plas! 
It  was  the  sound  of  a  smart  slap  in  contact  with  the  fresh 
human  skin.  The  child  screwed  up  his  face,  shut  his  eyes, 
and  disappeared  from  the  window,  which  was  violently 
closed  again. 

But  the  example  had  been  given :  the  two  bangs  of  the 
shutter  had  been  heard.  Another  window  opened,  this  time 
with  precaution,  and  the  wrinkled  and  toothless  head  of  an 
old  woman  looked  stealthily  out.  It  was  Sister  Puta,  the  old 
dame  who  had  caused  such  a  commotion  during  Father 
Damaso's  sermon.  Children  and  old  women  are  the  repre- 
sentatives of  curiosity  in  the  world;  the  children  want  to 
know,  the  old  women  to  live  over  again.  The  old  sister 
stayed  longer  than  the  child,  and  gazed  into  the  distance  with 
contracted  brows.  Timidly  a  skylight  opened  in  the  house 
opposite,  giving  passage  to  the  head  and  shoulders  of  sister. 
Rufa.  The  two  old  women  looked  across  at  each  other, 
smiled,  exchanged  gestures,  and  signed  themselves. 

"  Since  the  sack  of  the  pueblo  by  Balat  I've  not  known 
such  a  night!  "  said  Sister  Puta. 

"  What  a  firing!     They  say  it  was  the  band  of  old  Pablo." 

"Tulisanes?     Impossible!     I  heard  it  was  the  cuadril- 


Gossip.  217 


leros  against  the  guards;  that's  why  Don  Filipo  was  ar- 
rested." 

"  They  say  at  least  fourteen  are  dead." 
Other  windows  opened  and  people  were  seen  exchanging 
greetings  and  gossip. 

By  the  light  of  the  dawn,  which  promised  a  splendid  day, 
soldiers  could  now  be  seen  dimly  at  the  end  of  the  street, 
like  gray  silhouettes  coming  and  going. 

"  Do  you  know  what  it  "was.?  "  asked  a  man,  with  a  vil- 
lainous face. 

"  Yes,  the  cuadrilleros.' 
"No,  senor,  a  revolt!  " 

"  What  revolt  ?     The  curate  against  the  alfe'rez  ?  " 
"Oh,  no;  nothing  of  that  kind.     It  was  an  uprising  of 
the  Chinese." 

"  The  Chinese !  "  repeated  all  the  listeners,  with  great  dis- 
appointment. 

"  That's  why  we  don't  see  one !  " 

"They  are  all  dead!" 

"  I — I  suspected  they  had  something  on  foot!  " 

"I  saw  it,  too.     Last  night " 

"What  a  pity  they  are  all  dead  before  Christmas!  "  cried 
Sister  Rufa.     "  We  shall  not  get  their  presents!  " 

The  streets  began  to  show  signs  of  life.  First  the  dogs, 
pigs,  and  chickens  began  to  circulate;  then  some  little 
ragged  boys,  keeping  hold  of  each  other's  hands,  ventured 
to  approach  the  barracks.  Two  or  three  old  women  crept 
after  them,  their  heads  wrapt  in  handkerchiefs  knotted  under 
their  chins,  pretending  to  tell  their  beads,  so  as  not  to  be 
driven  back  by  the  soldiers.  When  it  was  certain  that  one 
might  come  and  go  without  risking  a  pistol  shot,  the  men 
commenced  to  stroll  out.  Affecting  indifference  and  strok- 
ing their  cocks,  they  finally  got  as  far  as  the  tribunal. 
Every  quarter  hour  a  new  version  of  the  affair  was  circu- 


214  An  Eagle  Flight 

lated.  Ibarra  with  his  servants  had  tried  to  carry  off  Maria 
Clara,  and  in  defending  her,  Capain  Tiago  had  been 
wounded.  The  number  of  dead  was  no  longer  fourteen, 
but  thirty.  At  half-past  seven  the  version  which  received 
most  credit  was  clear  and  detailed. 

"  I've  just  come  from  the  tribunal,"  said  a  passer,  "  where 
I  saw  Don  Filipo  and  Don  Crisdstomo  prisoners.  Well, 
Bruno,  son  of  the  man  who  was  beaten  to  death,  has  con- 
fessed everything.  You  know.  Captain  Tiago  is  to  marry 
his  daughter  to  the  young  Spaniard.  Don  Crisdstomo 
wanted  revenge,  and  planned  to  massacre  all  the  Spaniards. 
His  band  attacked  the  convent  and  the  barracks.  They  say 
many  of  them  escaped.  The  guards  burned  Don  Crisds- 
tomo's  house,  and  if  he  hadn't  been  arrested,  they  would 
have  burned  him,  too." 

" They  burned  the  house? " 

"  You  can  still  see  the  smoke  from  here,"  said  the  nar- 
rator. 

Everybody  looked :  a  column  of  smoke  was  rising  against 
the  sky.  Then  the  comments  began,  some  pitying,  some 
accusing. 

"  Poor  young  man!  "  cried  the  husband  of  Sister  Puta. 

"What!"  cried  the  sister.  "You  are  ready  to  defend  a 
man  that  heaven  has  so  plainly  punished  ?  You'll  find  your- 
self arrested  too.     You  uphold  a  falling  house!  " 

The  husband  was  silent;  the  argument  had  told. 

"  Yes,"  went  on  the  old  woman.  "  After  striking  down 
Father  Ddmaso,  there  was  nothing  left  but  to  kill  Father 
Salvi!" 

"  But  you  can't  deny  he  was  a  good  child." 

"Yes,  he  was  good,"  replied  the  old  woman;  "but  he 
went  to  Europe,  and  those  who  go  to  Europe  come  back 
heretics,  the  curates  say." 

"Oho!  "  said  the  husband,  taking  his  advantage.     "And 


Gossip  2 1 5 

the  curate,  and  all  the  curates,  and  the  archbishop,  and  the 
pope,  aren't  they  all  Spaniards?  What?  And  are  they 
heretics? " 

Happily  for  Sister  Putd,  the  conversation  was  cut  short 
A  servant  came  running,  pale  and  horror-stricken. 

"  A  man  hung — in  our  neighbor's  garden !  "  she  gasped. 

A  man  hung!     Nobody  stirred. 

*'  Let's  come  and  see,"  said  the  old  man,  rising. 

"  Don't  go  near  him,"  cried  Sister  Puti,  "  'twill  bring  us 
misfortune.     If  he's  hung,  so  much  the  worse  for  him !  " 

"Let  me  see  him,  woman.  You,  Juan,  go  and  inform 
them  at  the  tribunal ;  he  may  not  be  dead."  And  the  old 
man  went  off,  the  women,  even  Sister  Puta,  following  at  a 
distance,  full  of  fear,  but  also  of  curiosity. 

Hanging  from  the  branch  of  a  sandal  tree  in  the  garden 
a  human  body  met  their  gaze.     The  brave  man  examined  it. 

"  We  must  wait  for  the  authorities;  he's  been  dead  a  long 
time,"  he  said. 

Little  by  little  the  women  drew  near. 

"  It's  the  new  neighbor,"  they  whispered.  "  See  the  scar 
on  his  face? " 

In  half  an  hour  the  authorities  arrived. 

"  People  are  in  a  great  hurry  to  die!  "  said  the  director- 
cillo,  cocking  his  pen  behind  his  ear,  and  he  began  his  in- 
vestigation. 

Meanwhile  a  peasant  wearing  a  great  salakat  on  his  head 
and  having  his  neck  muffled  was  examining  the  body  and 
the  cord.  He  noticed  several  evidences  that  the  man  was 
dead  before  he  was  hung.  The  curious  countryman  noticed 
also  that  the  clothing  seemed  recently  torn  and  was  covered 
with  dust. 

"What  are  you  looking  at?  "  demanded  the  directorcillo, 
who  had  gathered  all  his  evidence. 

"  I  was  looking,  senor,  to  see  if  I  knew  him,"  stammered 


21 6  An  Eagle  Flight 

the  man,  half  uncovering,  in  which  he  managed  to  lower  his 
salakat  even  farther  over  his  eyes. 

"But  didn't  you  hear  that  it  is  a  certain  Josd?  You  must 
be  asleep! " 

Everybody  laughed.  The  confused  countryman  stam- 
mered something  else  and  went  away.  When  he  had 
reached  a  safe  distance,  he  took  off  his  disguise  and  re- 
sumed the  stature  and  gait  of  Elias. 


XLIX. 

V^   VICTIS. 

With  threatening  air  the  guards  marched  back  and  forth 
before  the  door  of  the  town  hall,  menacing  with  the  butt  of 
their  rifles  intrepid  small  boys,  who  came  and  raised  them- 
selves on  tiptoe  to  see  through  the  gratings. 

The  court  room  had  not  the  same  appearance  as  the  day 
of  the  discussion  of  the  fete.  The  guards  and  the  cuadril- 
leros  spoke  low;  the  alfdrez  paced  the  room,  looking  angrily 
at  the  door  from  time  to  time.  In  a  corner  yawned  Dona 
Consolacion,  her  steely  eyes  riveted  on  the  door  leading 
into  the  prison.  The  arm-chair  under  the  picture  of  His 
Majesty  was  empty. 

It  was  almost  nine  o'clock  when  the  curate  arrived. 

"  Well,"  said  the  alferez,  "you  haven't  kept  us  waiting!  " 

"  I  did  not  wish  to  be  here,"  said  the  curate,  ignoring  the 
tone  of  the  alferez.     *'  I  am  very  nervous." 

"  I  thought  it  best  to  wait  for  you,"  said  the  alferez. 
"  We  have  eight  here,"  he  went  on,  pointing  toward  the  door 
of  the  prison;  "the  one  called  Bruno  died  in  the  night. 
Are  you  ready  to  examine  the  two  unknown  prisoners?  " 

The  curate  sat  down  in  the  arm-chair. 

"  Let  us  go  on,"  he  said. 

"  Bring  out  the  two  in  the  cepo !  "  ordered  the  alfdrez  in 
as  terrible  a  voice  as  he  could  command.  Then  turning  to 
the  curate: 

"  We  skipped  two  holes." 

For  the  benefit  of  those  not  acquainted  with  the  instru- 


21 8  An  Eagle  Flight 

ments  of  torture  of  the  Philippines,  we  will  say  that  the 
cepo,  a  form  of  stocks,  is  one  of  the  most  innocent;  but  by 
skipping  enough  holes,  the  position  is  made  most  trying. 
It  is,  however,  a  torture  that  can  be  long  endured. 

The  jailor  drew  the  bolt  and  opened  the  door.  A  sick- 
ening odor  escaped,  and  a  match  lighted  by  one  of  the 
guards  went  out  in  the  vitiated  air;  when  it  was  possible 
to  take  in  a  candle,  one  could  see  dimly,  from  the  rooms 
outside,  the  forms  of  men  crouching  or  standing.  The 
cepo  was  opened. 

A  dark  figure  came  out  between  two  soldiers;  it  was 
Tarsilo,  the  brother  of  Bruno.  His  torn  clothing  let  his 
splendid  muscles  show.  The  other  prisoner  brought  out 
was  weeping  and  lamenting. 

"  What  is  your  name?  "  the  alfdrez  demanded  of  Tdrsilo. 

"  Tarsilo  Alasigan." 

"  What  did  Don  Crisdstomo  promise  you  for  attacking 
the  convent? " 

"  I  have  never  had  any  communication  with  Don  Crisd- 
stomo." 

"  Don't  attempt  to  deny  it :  what  other  reason  had  you 
for  joining  the  conspiracy  ?  " 

"  You  had  killed  our  father,  we  wished  to  avenge  him, 
nothing  more.  Go  find  two  of  your  guards.  They're  at 
the  foot  of  the  precipice,  where  we  threw  them.  You  may 
kill  me  now,  you  will  learn  nothing  more." 

There  was  silence  and  general  surprise. 

"You  will  name  your  accomplices,"  cried  the  alfdrez, 
brandishing  his  cane. 

The  accused  man  smiled  disdainfully.  The  alfdrez 
talked  apart  with  the  curate. 

"  Take  him  where  the  bodies  are,"  he  ordered. 

In  a  corner  of  the  patio,  on  an  old  cart,  five  bodies  were 
heaped  under  a  piece  of  soiled  matting. 


Vag  Victis  219 

"Do  you  know  them?"  asked  the  alfe'rez,  lifting  the 
covering.  Tdrsilo  did  not  reply.  He  saw  the  body  of 
Sisa's  husband,  and  that  of  his  brother,  pierced  through 
with  bayonet  strokes.  His  face  grew  darker,  and  a  great 
sigh  escaped  him ;  but  he  was  mute, 

"  Beat  him  till  he  confesses  or  dies!  "  cried  the  exasper- 
ated alf^rez. 

They  led  him  back  where  the  other  prisoner,  with  chatter- 
ing teeth,  was  invoking  the  saints. 

"  Do  you  know  this  man  ?  "  demanded  Father  Salvi. 

"  I  never  saw  him  before,"  replied  Tarsilo,  looking  at 
the  poor  wretch  with  faint  compassion. 

"  Fasten  him  to  the  bench ;  gag  him ! "  ordered  the  al- 
f^rez,  trembling  with  rage.  When  this  was  done,  a  guard 
began  his  sad  task. 

Father  Salvi,  pale  and  haggard,  rose  trembling,  and 
left  the  tribunal.  In  the  street  he  saw  a  girl,  leaning 
against  the  wall,  rigid,  motionless,  her  eyes  far  away.  The 
sun  shone  full  down  on  her.  She  seemed  not  to  breathe 
but  to  count,  one  after  another,  the  muffled  blows  inside. 
It  was  Tirsilo's  sister. 

The  torture  continued  until  the  soldier,  breathless,  let 
his  arm  fall,  and  the  alfe'rez  ordered  his  victim  released. 
But  Tarsilo  still  refused  to  speak.  Then  Dona  Consolacion 
whispered  in  her  husband's  ear;  he  nodded. 

"  To  the  well  with  him !  "  he  said. 

The  Filipinos  know  what  that  means.  In  Tagalo  it  is 
called  timbain.  We  do  not  know  who  invented  this  judi- 
ciary process,  but  it  must  belong  to  antiquity.  Truth  com- 
ing out  of  a  well  is  perhaps  a  sarcastic  interpretation. 

In  the  middle  of  the  patio  of  the  tribunal  was  a  pictur- 
esque well  curb  of  uncut  stones.  It  had  a  rustic  crank  of 
bamboo;  its  water  was  slimy  and  putrid.  All  sorts  of  re- 
fuse had  been  thrown  around  it  and  in  it. 


220  An  Eagle  Flight 

Toward  this  Tdrsilo  was  led.  He  was  very  pale,  and 
his  lips  trembled,  if  he  was  not  praying.  The  pride  he 
had  shown  appeared  now  to  be  crushed  out;  he  seemed 
resigned  to  suffer.  The  poor  wretch  looked  enviously  at 
the  pile  of  bodies,  and  sighed  heavily. 

"  Sp2ak  then !  "  said  the  directorcillo.  "  You  will  be 
hung  anyway.  Why  not  die  without  so  much  suffering  ?  " 
But  Tarsilo  remained  mute. 

When  the  well  was  reached,  they  bound  his  feet.  He 
was  to  be  let  down  head  foremost.  He  was  fastened  to  the 
curb;  the  crank  turned,  and  his  body  disappeared.  The 
alf^rez  noted  the  seconds  with  his  watch.  At  the  signal 
the  body  was  drawn  up,  too  pitiable  to  describe ;  but  Tar- 
silo was  still  mute.  Again  he  was  let  down,  again  he  re- 
fused to  speak;  when  he  was  drawn  up  the  third  time,  he 
no  longer  breathed. 

His  torturers  looked  at  each  other  in  consternation.  The 
alfdrez  ordered  the  body  taken  down,  and  they  all  examined 
it  for  signs  of  life ;  but  there  were  none. 

"See,"  said  a  cuadrillero,  at  last,  "he  has  strangled 
himself  with  his  tongue !  " 

"  Put  the  body  with  the  others,"  ordered  the  alf^rez  ner- 
vously.    "  We  must  examine  the  other  unknown  prisoner." 


L. 

ACCURST, 

The  news  spread  that  the  prisoners  were  to  be  taken  to 
the  capital,  and  members  of  their  families  ran  wildly  from 
convent  to  barracks,  from  barracks  to  tribunal,  but  found  no 
consolation  anywhere.  The  curate  was  said  to  be  ill.  The 
guards  dealt  roughly  with  the  supplicating  women,  and 
the  gobernadorcillo  was  more  useless  than  ever.  The 
friends  of  the  accused,  therefore,  had  collected  near  the 
prison,  waiting  for  them  to  be  brought  out.  Doray,  Don 
Filipo's  young  wife,  wandered  back  and  forth,  her  child  in 
her  arms,  both  crying.  The  Capitana  Tinay  called  on  her 
son  Antonio,  and  brave  Capitana  Maria  watched  the  grat- 
ing behind  which  were  her  twins,  her  only  children. 

At  two  in  the  afternoon,  an  uncovered  cart  drawn  by  two 
oxen  stopped  in  front  of  the  tribunal.  It  was  surrounded, 
and  there  were  loud  threats  of  breaking  it. 

" Don't  do  that !  "  cried  Capitana  Maria;  "do  you  wish 
them  to  go  on  foot.^"  In  a  few  moments,  twenty  soldiers 
came  out  and  surrounded  the  ox-cart;  then  the  prisoners 
appeared.  The  first  was  Don  Filipo,  who  smiled  at  his 
wife.  Doray  responded  by  bitter  sobs,  and  would  have 
rushed  to  her  husband,  had  not  the  guards  held  her  back. 
The  son  of  Capitana  Tinay  was  crying  like  a  child,  which 
did  not  help  to  check  the  lamentations  of  his  family.  The 
twins  were  calm  and  grave.  Ibarra  came  last.  He  walked 
between  two  guards,  his  hand  free;  his  eyes  sought  on  all 
sides  for  a  friendly  face. 


222  An  Eagle  Flight 

"He  is  the  guilty  one!"  cried  numerous  voices.  "He 
is  the  guilty  one,  and  his  hands  are  unbound!  " 

"  Bind  my  arms,"  said  Ibarra  to  his  guards. 

"  We  have  no  orders." 

"Bind  me!" 

The  soldiers  obeyed. 

The  alfdrez  appeared  on  horseback,  armed  to  the  teeth, 
and  followed  by  an  escort  of  soldiers.  The  prisoners* 
friends  saluted  them  with  affectionate  words;  only  Ibarra 
was  friendless. 

"What  has  my  husband  done  to  you?"  sobbed  Doray. 
"  See  my  child;  you  have  robbed  him  of  his  father!  " 

Grief  began  to  turn  to  hate  against  the  man  who  was 
said  to  have  provoked  the  uprising. 

The  alf^rez  gave  the  order  to  start. 

"Coward!"  cried  a  woman,  as  the  cart  moved  off. 
"  While  the  others  fought,  you  were  in  hiding!     Coward!  " 

"  Curses  on  you ! "  cried  an  old  man,  running  after. 
"Cursed  be  the  gold  heaped  up  by  your  family  to  take 
away  our  peace.     Accurst !  accurst !  " 

"  May  you  be  hung,  heretic!  "  cried  a  woman,  picking  up 
a  stone  and  throwing  it  after  him.  Her  example  was 
promptly  followed,  and  a  shower  of  dust  and  pebbles  beat 
against  the  unhappy  man.  Crisdstomo  bore  this  injustice 
without  a  sign.  It  was  the  farewell  of  his  beloved  country. 
He  bent  his  head  and  sat  motionless.  Perhaps  he  was  think- 
ing of  a  man  beaten  in  the  pueblo  streets;  perhaps  of  the 
body  of  a  girl,  washed  up  by  the  waves. 

The  alferez  felt  obliged  to  drive  away  the  crowd,  but 
stones  did  not  cease  to  fall,  nor  insult  to  sound.  One 
mother  only  did  not  curse  Ibarra;  the  Capitana  Maria 
watched  her  sons  go,  with  compressed  lips  and  eyes  full  of 
silent  tears. 

Of  all  the  people  in  the  open  windows  as  he  passed,  none 


Accurst 


223 


but  the  indifferent  and  curious  showed  Ibarra  the  least 
compassion.  All  his  friends  had  deserted  him,  even  Cap- 
tain Basilio,  who  had  forbidden  Sinang  to  weep.  When 
Crisdstomo  passed  the  smoking  ruins  of  his  home,  that  home 
where  he  was  born,  and  spent  his  happy  childhood  and  youth, 
the  tears,  long  repressed,  gushed  from  his  eyes,  and  bound 
as  he  was,  he  had  to  experience  the  bitterness  of  showing  a 
grief  that  could  not  rouse  the  slightest  sympathy. 

From  a  hill,  an  old  man,  pale  and  thin,  wrapped  in  a 
mantle,  and  leaning  on  a  stick,  watched  the  sad  procession. 
At  the  news  of  what  had  happened,  old  Tasio  had  left  his 
bed,  and  tried  to  go  to  the  pueblo,  but  his  strength  had 
failed  him.  He  followed  the  cart  with  his  eyes,  until  it 
disappeared  in  the  distance.  Then,  after  resting  a  while 
in  thought,  he  got  up  painfully,  and  started  toward  his 
home,  halting  for  breath  at  almost  every  step.  The  next 
day  some  shepherds  found  him  dead  under  the  shadow  of 
his  solitary  house. 


LI. 

PATRIOTISM   AND    INTEREST. 

The  telegraph  had  secretly  transmitted  to  Manila  the 
news  of  the  uprising,  and  thirty-six  hours  later,  the  news- 
papers, their  accounts  expanded,  corrected,  and  mutilated  by 
the  attorney-general,  talked  about  it  with  much  mystery  and 
no  little  menace.  Meanwhile  the  private  accounts,  coming 
out  of  the  convents,  had  gone  from  mouth  to  mouth,  to  the 
great  alarm  of  those  who  heard  them.  The  fact,  distorted 
in  countless  versions,  was  accepted  as  true  with  more  or 
less  readiness,  according  to  its  fitness  to  the  passions  and 
ideas  of  the  different  hearers. 

Though  public  tranquillity  was  not  disturbed,  the  peace 
of  the  hearthstones  became  like  that  of  a  fish-pond,  all  on 
top;  underneath  was  commotion.  Crosses,  gold  lace,  office, 
power,  honors  of  all  kinds  began  to  hover  over  one  part  of 
the  population,  like  butterflies  in  a  golden  sunshine.  For 
the  others  a  dark  cloud  rose  on  the  horizon,  and  against  this 
ashy  background  stood  in  relief  bars,  chains,  and  the  fateful 
arms  of  the  gibbet.  Destiny  presented  the  event  to  the 
Manila  imagination,  like  certain  Chinese  fans:  one  face 
painted  black,  the  other  gilded,  and  gorgeous  with  birds  and 
flowers. 

There  was  great  agitation  in  the  convents.  The  provin- 
cials ordered  their  carriages,  and  held  secret  conferences; 
then  presented  themselves  at  the  palace,  to  offer  their  sup- 
port to  the  imperiled  government. 

"  A  Te  Deum,  a  Te  Deum !  "  said  a  monk  in  one  convent^ 


Patriotism  and  Interest  225 

"  Through  the  goodness  of  God,  our  worth  is  made  manifest 
in  these  perilous  times!  " 

"  This  petty  general,  this  prophet  of  evil,  will  gnaw  his 
moustaches  after  this  little  lesson,"  said  another. 

"  What  would  have  become  of  him  without  the  religious 
orders?  " 

"  The  papers  almost  go  to  the  point  of  demanding  a  mitre 
for  Brother  Salvi." 

"And  he  will  get  it!  He's  consumed  with  desire  for 
it!" 

"Do  you  think  so?  " 

"  Why  shouldn't  he  be?  In  these  days  mitres  are  given 
for  the  asking." 

"  If  mitres  had  eyes,  and  could  see  on  what  craniums " 

We  spare  our  readers  other  comments  of  this  nature. 
Let  us  enter  the  home  of  a  private  citizen,  and  as  we  know 
few  people  at  Manila,  we  will  knock  at  the  door  of  Captain 
Tinong,  the  friendly  and  hospitable  gentleman  whom  we 
saw  inviting  Ibarra,  with  so  much  insistence,  to  honor  his 
house  with  a  visit. 

In  his  rich  and  spacious  drawing-room,  at  Tondo,  Cap- 
tain Tinong  is  seated  in  a  great  arm-chair,  passing  his  hand 
despairingly  across  his  brow;  while  his  weeping  wife,  the 
Capitana  Tinchang,  reads  him  a  sermon,  listened  to  by  their 
two  daughters,  who  are  seated  in  a  corner,  mute  with  stupe- 
faction. 

"  Ah,  Virgin  of  Antipole!  "  cried  the  wife.  "  Ah,  Virgin 
of  the  Rosary;  I  told  you  so!  I  told  you  so!  Ah,  Virgin 
ofCarmel!     Ah!" 

"  Why,  no!  You  didn't  tell  me  anything,"  Captain  Tin- 
ong finally  ventured  to  reply.  "  On  the  contrary,  you  said  I 
did  well  to  keep  up  the  friendship  with  Captain  Tiago,  and 
to  go  to  his  house,  because— because  he  was  rich ;  and  you 
said " 


226  An  Eagle  Flight 

"  What  did  I  say  ?  I  didn't  say  it !  I  didn't  say  any- 
thing!    Ah,  if  you  had  listened  to  me! " 

*'  Now  you  throw  the  blame  back  on  me !  "  said  the  cap- 
tain bitterly,  striking  the  arm  of  his  chair  with  his  fist. 
"Didn't  you  say  I  did  well  to  invite  him  to  dinner,  be- 
cause, as  he  was  rich " 

"  It  is  true  I  said  that,  because — because  it  couldn't  be 
helped ;  you  had  already  invited  him ;  and  you  did  nothing 
but  praise  him.  Don  Ibarra  here,  and  Don  Ibarra  there,  and 
Don  Ibarra  on  all  sides.  But  I  didn't  advise  you  to  see  him 
or  to  speak  to  him  at  the  dinner.     That  you  cannot  deny !  " 

"  Did  I  know,  for  instance,  that  he  was  to  be  there  ?  " 

"  You  ought  to  have  known  it !  " 

"How,  if  I  wasn't  even  acquainted  with  him?  " 

"  You  ought  to  have  been  acquainted  with  him !  " 

"  But,  Tinchang,  if  it  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  seen 
him  or  heard  him  spoken  of  ?  " 

"  You  ought  to  have  seen  him  before,  you  ought  to  have 
heard  him  spoken  of;  that's  what  you  are  a  man  for!  And 
now,  you  will  be  sent  into  exile,  our  goods  will  be  confis- 
cated  Oh,  if  I  were  a  man !  if  I  were  a  man !  " 

"  And  if  you  were  a  man,"  asked  the  vexed  husband, 
"  what  would  you  do  ?  " 

"What?  Why,  to-day,  this  very  day,  I  should  present 
myself  to  the  captain-general,  and  offer  to  fight  against  the 
rebels,  this  very  day !  " 

"But  didn't  you  read  what  the  Diario  says?  Listen! 
'The  infamous  and  abortive  treason  has  been  repressed 
with  energy,  force,  and  vigor,  and  the  rebellious  enemies  of 
the  country  and  their  accomplices  will  promptly  feel  all  the 
weight  and  all  the  severity  of  the  laws! '  You  see,  there  is 
no  rebellion ! " 

"That  makes  no  difference,  you  should  present  yourself; 
many  did  it  in  1872,  and  so  nobody  harmed  them." 


Patriotism  and  Interest  227 

"Yes!    it  was  done  also  by  Father  Bug "     But  his 

wife's  hands  were  over  his  mouth. 

"  Say  it  I  Speak  that  name,  so  you  may  be  hung  to-morrow 
at  Bagumbayan !  Don't  you  know  it  is  enough  to  get  you 
executed  without  so  much  as  a  trial?     Go  on,  say  it! " 

But  though  Captain  Tinong  had  wished,  he  couldn't  have 
done  it.  His  wife  held  his  mouth  with  both  her  hands, 
squeezing  his  little  head  against  the  back  of  the  chair. 
Perhaps  the  poor  man  would  have  died  of  asphyxia,  had  not 
a  new  person  come  on  the  stage. 

It  was  their  cousin,  Don  Primitive,  who  knew  Amat  by 
heart ;  a  man  of  forty,  large  and  corpulent,  and  dressed  with 
the  utmost  care. 

"Quid  video?  "  he  cried,  upon  entering;  "what  is  going 
on?" 

"  Ah,  cousin  1 "  said  the  wife,  weeping,  and  running  to 
him,  "  I  had  you  sent  for,  for  I  don't  know  what  will  be- 
come of  us!  What  do  you  advise — you  who  have  studied 
Latin  and  understand  reasoning " 

"But  quid  quaeritis?  Nihil  est  in  intellectu  quod  prius 
non  fuerit  in  sensu."  And  he  sat  down  sedately.  The 
Latin  phrases  seemed  to  have  a  tranquillizing  effect;  the 
husband  and  wife  ceased  to  lament,  and  came  nearer,  await- 
ing the  counsel  of  their  cousin's  lips,  as  once  the  Greeks 
awaited  the  saving  phrase  of  the  oracle. 

"  Why  are  you  mourning?     Ubinam  gentium  sumus?  " 

"  You  know  the  story  of  the  uprising " 

"  Well,  what  of  it?     Don  Crisdstomo  owes  you?  " 

"No!  but  do  you  know  that  Tinong  invited  him  to  din- 
ner, and  that  he  bowed  to  him  on  the  bridge in  the 

middle  of  the  day?      They  will  say  he  was  a  friend   of 
ours ! " 

"Friend?"  cried  the  Latin,  in  alarm,  rising;  "tell  me 
who  your  friends  are,  and  I'll  tell  you  who  you  are  yourself! 
16 


228  An  Eagle  Flight 

Malum  est  negotium  et  est  timendum  rerum  istarum  horren- 
dissimum  resultatum.     Hum !  " 

So  many  words  in  um  terrified  Captain  Tinong.  He 
became  frightfully  pale.  His  wife  joined  her  hands  in 
supplication. 

"  Cousin,  you  speak  to  us  now  in  Latin,  but  you  know  we 
haven't  studied  philosophy  like  you.  Speak  to  us  in  Tagal 
or  Castilian;  give  us  your  advice." 

"  It  is  deplorable  that  you  do  not  know  Latin,  my  cousin : 
Latin  verities  are  lies  in  Tagalo.  Contra  principi  negantem 
fustibus  est  arguendum,  is,  in  Latin,  a  truth  as  veritable  as 
Noah's  ark.  I  once  put  it  in  practice  in  Tagalo,  and  it  was 
I  who  got  beaten.  It  is  indeed  a  misfortune  that  you  do 
not  know  Latin!  In  Latin  it  might  all  be  arranged.  You 
have  done  wrong,  very  wrong,  cousins,  to  make  friends  with 
this  young  man.  The  just  pay  the  dues  of  sinners.  I  feel 
almost  like  advising  you  to  make  your  will !  "  and  he  moved 
his  head  gloomily  from  side  to  side. 

" Saturn ino,  what  ails  you?"  cried  Capitana  Tinchang, 
terrified.  "Ah!  Heaven!  he  is  dead!  A  doctor!  Tinong, 
Tinongy!  " 

" He  has  only  fainted,  cousin;  bring  some  water."  Don 
Primitivo  sprinkled  his  face,  and  the  unfortunate  man 
revived. 

"Come,  come!  don't  weep!  I've  found  a  remedy.  Put 
him  in  bed.  Come,  come!  courage!  I  am  with  you,  and 
all  the  wisdom  of  the  ancients!  Call  a  doctor,  and  this 
very  day,  cousin,  go  present  yourself  to  the  captain-general, 
and  take  him  a  present,  a  gold  chain,  a  ring;  say  it's  a 
Christmas  present.  Shut  the  windows  and  doors,  and  if 
any  one  asks  for  your  husband,  say  he  is  seriously  ill. 
Meanwhile  I'll  burn  all  the  letters,  papers,  and  books,  as 
Don  Crisdstomo  did.  Scripti  testes  sunt!  Go  on  to  the 
captain's.     Leave  me  to  myself.      In   extremis  extrema. 


Patriotism  and  Interest  229 

Give  me  the  power  of  a  Roman  dictator,  and  see  whether  I 
save  the  coun — What  am  I  saying — the  cousin !  " 

He  commenced  to  upset  the  shelves  of  the  library,  and 
tear  papers  and  letters.  Then  he  lighted  a  fire  on  the 
kitchen  hearth,  and  the  auto-da-Jk  began.  '"Revolutions 
of  the  Celestial  Spheres,'  by  Copernicus.  Whew!  ite, 
maledicte,  in  ignem  kalanis!  "  he  cried,  throwing  it  to  the 
flames.  "  Revolution  and  Copernicus !  Crime  upon  crime ! 
If  I  don't  get  through  soon  enough!  'Liberty  in  the  Philip- 
pines!' What  books!  Into  the  fire  with  them!"  The 
most  innocent  works  did  not  escape  the  common  fate. 
Cousin  Primitivo  was  right.     The  just  pay  for  sinners. 

Four  or  five  hours  later,  at  a  fashionable  gathering,  the 
events  of  the  day  were  being  discussed.  There  were  present 
a  number  of  elderly  married  ladies  and  spinsters,  together 
with  the  wives  and  daughters  of  clerks  of  the  adminstration, 
all  in  European  costume,  fanning  and  yawning.  Among 
the  men,  who,  by  their  manners,  showed  their  position,  as 
did  the  women,  was  a  m^n  advanced  in  age,  small  and  one- 
armed,  who  was  treated  with  distinction,  and  who  kept  a 
reserved  distance. 

"  I  could  never  before  suffer  the  monks  and  civil  guards, 
because  of  their  want  of  manners,"  a  portly  lady  was  saying, 
"  but  now  that  I  see  of  what  service  they  are,  I  could  almost 
marry  one  of  them.     I  am  patriotic." 

"  I  am  of  the  very  same  mind,"  said  a  very  prim  spinster. 
"  But  what  a  pity  the  former  governor  isn't  with  us!  " 

"  He  would  put  an  end  to  the  race  of  filibusterillos!  " 

"Don't  they  say  there  are  many  islands  yet  uninhabited .> 

"If  I  were  the  captain-general " 

"  Senoras,"  said  the  one-armed  man,  "  the  captain-general 
knows  his  duty.  I  understand  he  is  greatly  irritated,  for 
he  had  loaded  this  Ibarra  with  favors." 

"Loaded  him  with  favors!"  repeated  the  slim  gentle- 


230  An  Eagle  Flight 

woman,  fanning  furiously.  "  What  ingrates  these  Indians 
are!     Is  it  possible  to  treat  them  like  human  beings?  " 

"  Do  you  know  what  I've  heard?  "  asked  an  officer. 

"  No!     What  is  it?     What  do  they  say?  " 

"  People  worthy  of  confidence  say  that  all  this  noise  about 
building  a  school  was  a  pure  pretext;  what  he  meant  to 
make  was  a  fort  for  his  own  defence  when  he  had  been 
attacked." 

"  What  infamy !  Would  any  one  but  an  Indian  be  capable 
of  it? " 

"  But  they  say  this  filibustero  i"  the  son  of  a  Spaniard," 
said  the  one-armed  man,  without  looking  at  anybody. 

"  There  it  is  again,"  cried  the  portly  lady;  "  always  these 
Creoles!  No  Indian  understands  anything  about  revolution. 
Train  crows,  and  they'll  pick  your  eyes  out !  " 

"  Do  you  know  what  I've  heard?  "  asked  a  pretty  Creole, 
to  turn  the  conversation.  "The  wife  of  Captain  Tinong  — 
you  remember?  We  danced  and  dined  at  his  house  at  the 
fete  of  Tondo — well,  the  wife  of  Captain  Tinong  gave  the 
captain-general,  this  afternoon,  a  ring  worth  a  thousand 
pesos.     She  said  it  was  a  Christmas  present." 

"  Christmas  doesn't  come  for  a  month." 

"She  must  have  feared  a  downpour,"  said  the  stout 
lady. 

"  And  so  got  under  cover,"  said  the  slim. 

"  That  is  evident,"  said  the  one-armed  man,  thoughtfully. 
"  I  fear  there  is  something  back  of  this." 

"  I  also,"  said  the  portly  lady.  "  The  wife  of  Captain 
Tinong  is  very  parsimonious — she  has  never  sent  us  presents, 
though  we  have  been  to  her  house.  When  such  a  person 
lets  slip  a  little  present  of  a  thousand  little  pesos " 

"  But  is  it  certain?  "  demanded  the  one-armed  man. 

"Absolutely!  His  excellency's  aide-de-camp  told  my 
cousin,  to  whom  he  is  engaged.     I'm  tempted  to  believe  it's 


Patriotism  and  Interest  231 

a  ring  she  wore  the  day  of  the  f^te.  She's  always  covered 
with  diamonds." 

"  That's  one  way  of  advertising !  Instead  of  buying  a 
lay-figure  or  renting  a  shop " 

The  one-armed  man  found  a  pretext  for  leaving. 

Two  hours  later,  when  all  the  city  was  asleep,  certain 
inhabitants  of  Tondo  received  an  invitation  through  the 
medium  of  soldiers.  Authority  could  not  permit  people  of 
position  and  property  to  sleep  in  houses  so  ill  guarded. 
In  the  fortress  of  Santiago,  and  in  other  government  build- 
ings, their  sleep  would  be  more  tranquil  and  refreshing. 
Among  these  people  was  the  unfortunate  Captain  Tinong. 


LII. 

MARIA   CLARA    MARRIES. 

Captain  Tiago  was  very  happy.  During  these  troublous 
times,  no  one  had  paid  any  attention  to  him.  He  had  not 
been  arrested,  he  had  not  been  subjected  to  cross-examina- 
tion, to  electrical  machines,  to  repeated  foot-baths  in  sub- 
terranean habitations,  nor  to  any  other  of  these  pleasantries, 
well  known  to  certain  people  who  call  themselves  civilized. 
His  friends,  that  is  to  say,  those  who  had  been — for  he  had 
repudiated  his  Filipino  friends  as  soon  as  they  had  become 
suspects  in  the  eyes  of  the  Government — had  returned  home 
after  several  days  of  vacation  in  the  edifices  of  the  State. 
The  captain-general  had  ordered  them  out  of  his  possessions, 
to  the  great  displeasure  of  the  one-armed  man,  who  would 
have  liked  to  celebrate  the  approaching  Christmas  in  so 
numerous  a  company  of  the  rich. 

Captain  Tinong  returned  to  his  home,  ill,  pale,  another 
man.  The  excursion  had  not  been  for  his  good.  He  said 
nothing,  not  even  to  greet  his  family,  who  laughed  and  wept 
over  him,  mad  with  joy.  The  poor  man  no  longer  left  the 
house,  for  fear  of  saluting  a  filibuster.  Cousin  Primitivo 
himself,  with  all  the  wisdom  of  the  ancients,  could  not  draw 
him  out  of  his  mutism. 

Stories  like  that  of  Captain  Tinong's  were  numerous,  and 
Captain  Tiago  was  not  ignorant  of  them.  He  overflowed 
with  gratitude,  without  knowing  exactly  to  whom  he  owed 
these  signal  favors.  Aunt  Isabel  attributed  the.  miracle  to 
the  Virgin  of  Antipolo. 


Maria  Clara  Marries  233 

"  I  too,  Isabel,"  said  Captain  Tiago,  "  but  the  Virgin  of 
Antipole  has  probably  not  done  it  alone ;  my  friends  have 
helped,  and  my  future  son-in-law,  Senor  Linares." 

It  was  whispered  that  Ibarra  would  be  hung;  that  in  spite 
of  lack  of  proofs  of  his  guilt,  one  thing  had  been  found 
that  confirmed  the  accusation;  the  experts  had  declared  the 
school  was  so  designed  that  it  might  pass  for  a  rampart, 
faulty  enough,  to  be  sure,  but  what  one  might  expect  of 
ignorant  Indians. 

In  the  midst  of  affairs,  Dona  Victorina,  Don  Tiburcio, 
and  Linares  arrived.  As  usual.  Dona  Victorina  talked  for 
the  three  men  and  herself ;  and  her  speech  had  undergone  a 
remarkable  change.  She  now  claimed  to  have  naturalized 
herself  an  Andalusian  by  suppressing  d's  and  replacing  the 
sound  of  s  by  that  of  z.  No  one  had  been  able  to  get  the 
idea  out  of  her  head;  one  would  certainly  have  needed  to 
get  her  frizzes  off  the  outside  first.  She  talked  of  visits  of 
Linares  to  the  captain-general,  and  made  continual  insinua- 
tions as  to  advantages  a  relative  of  position  would  bring, 

"  As  we  say,"  she  concluded,  "  he  who  sleeps  in  a  good 
shade,  leans  on  a  good  staff." 

"  It's — it's  the  opposite,  wife." 

Maria  Clara  was  yet  pale,  though  she  had  almost  recov- 
ered from  her  illness.  She  kissed  Dona  Victorina,  smiling 
rather  sadly. 

"You  have  been  saved,  thanks  to  your  connections!" 
said  the  doctora,  with  a  significant  look  toward  Linares. 

"God  has  protected  my  father,"  said  Maria,  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  Yes,  Clarita,  but  the  time  of  miracles  is  past.  We,  the 
Spaniards  say,  trust  not  in  the  Virgin,  and  save  yourself  by 
running." 

"  It's — it's— the  contrary,  wife!  " 

"  We  must  talk  business,"  said  Dona  Victorina,  glancing 


234  An  Eagle  Flight 

at  Maria.  Maria  found  a  pretext  for  leaving,  and  went  out, 
steadying  herself  by  the  furniture. 

What  was  said  in  this  conference  was  so  sordid  and  mean, 
that  we  prefer  not  to  report  it.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  when 
they  parted,  they  were  all  satisfied.  Captain  Tiago  said  a 
little  after  to  Aunt  Isabel : 

"  Have  the  caterer  notified  that  we  give  a  reception  to- 
morrow. Maria  must  get  ready  for  her  marriage  at  once. 
When  Senor  Linares  is  our  son-in-law,  all  the  palaces  will 
be  open  to  us;  and  every  one  will  die  of  envy." 

And  so,  toward  eight  o'clock  the  next  evening,  the  house 
of  Captain  Tiago  was  once  more  full.  This  time,  however, 
he  had  invited  only  Spaniards,  peninsular  and  Philippine, 
and  Chinese.  Yet  many  of  our  acquaintances  were  there. 
Father  Sibyla  and  Father  Salvi,  among  numerous  Francis- 
cans and  Dominicans;  the  old  lieutenant  of  the  Municipal 
Guard,  more  sombre  than  ever;  the  alferez,  recounting  his 
victory  for  the  thousandth  time,  looking  over  the  heads  of 
everybody,  now  that  he  is  lieutenant  with  grade  of  com- 
mandant; Dr.  Espadana,  who  looks  upon  him  with  respect 
and  fear,  and  avoids  his  glance ;  Dona  Victorina,  who  can- 
not see  him  without  anger.  Linares  had  not  yet  arrived; 
as  a  person  of  importance,  he  must  arouse  expectation. 
There  are  beings  so  simple,  that  an  hour's  waiting  for  a 
man  suffices  to  make  him  great  in  their  eyes. 

Maria  Clara  was  the  object  of  interest  to  all  the  women, 
and  the  subject  of  unveiled  comments.  She  had  received 
these  ceremoniously,  without  losing  her  air  of  sadness. 

"  Bah!  the  proud  little  thing!  "  said  one. 

"  Rather  pretty,"  said  another,  "  but  he  might  have  chosen 
some  one  with  a  more  intelligent  face." 

"But  the  money,  my  dear!  The  good  fellow  is  selling 
himself." 

In  another  group  some  one  was  saying: 


Maria  Clara  Marries  235 

"To  marry  when  one's  first  fianc^  is  going  to  be  hung!  " 

"  That  is  what  is  called  prudent ;  having  a  substitute  at 
hand." 

"  Then,  when  one  becomes  a  widow " 

Possibly  some  of  these  remarks  reached  the  ears  of  Maria 
Clara.  She  grew  paler,  her  hand  trembled,  her  lips  seemed 
to  move. 

In  the  circles  of  men  the  talk  was  loud,  and  naturally 
the  recent  events  were  the  subject  of  conversation.  Every- 
body talked,  even  Don  Tiburcio. 

"  I  hear  that  your  reverence  is  about  to  leave  the  pueblo," 
said  the  new  lieutenant,  whom  his  new  star  had  made  more 
amiable. 

"  I  have  no  more  to  do  there ;  I  am  to  be  placed  perma- 
nently at  Manila.     And  you?  "  asked  Father  Salvi. 

"  I  also  leave  the  pueblo,"  said  he,  throwing  back  his 
shoulders;  "I  am  going  with  a  flying  column  to  rid  the 
province  of  filibusters." 

Father  Salvi  surveyed  his  old  enemy  from  top  to  toe,  and 
turned  away  with  a  disdainful  smile. 

"  Is  it  known  certainly  what  is  to  be  done  with  the  chief 
filibuster?  "  asked  a  clerk. 

"  You  are  speaking  of  Don  Crisdstomo  Ibarra,"  replied 
another.  "  It  is  very  probable  that  he  will  be  hung,  like 
those  of  1872,  and  it  will  be  very  just." 

"  He  is  to  be  exiled,"  said  the  old  lieutenant  dryly. 

"  Exile!  Nothing  but  exile?  "  cried  numerous  voices  at 
once.     "  Then  it  must  be  for  life !  " 

"  If  the  yoimg  man  had  been  more  prudent,"  went  on 
Lieutenant  Guevara,  speaking  so  that  all  might  hear, "  if  he 
had  confided  less  in  certain  persons  to  whom  he  wrote,  if 
our  attorney-generals  did  not  interpret  too  subtly  what  they 
read,  it  is  certain  he  would  have  been  released," 

This  declaration  of  the  old  lieutenant's,  and  the  tone  of 


236  An  Eagle  Flight 

his  voice,  produced  a  great  surprise  among  his  auditors. 
No  one  knew  what  to  say.  Father  Salvi  looked  away,  per- 
haps to  avoid  the  dark  look  the  lieutenant  gave  him.  Maria 
Clara  dropped  some  flowers  she  had  in  her  hand,  and 
became  a  statue.  Father  Sibyla,  who  knew  when  to  be 
silent,  seemed  the  only  one  who  knew  how  to  question. 

"You  speak  of  letters,  Sefior  Guevara." 

"  I  speak  of  what  I  am  told  by  Don  Crisdstomo's  advocate, 
who  is  greatly  interested  in  his  case,  and  defended  him 
with  zeal.  Outside  of  a  few  ambiguous  lines  in  a  letter 
addressed  to  a  woman  before  he  left  for  Europe,  in  which 
the  procurator  found  a  project  against  the  Government,  and 
which  the  young  man  acknowledged  as  his,  there  was  no 
evidence  against  him. " 

"  And  the  declaration  made  by  the  tulisan  before  he  died  ?  " 

"The  defence  destroyed  that  testimony.  According  to 
the  witness  himself,  none  of  them  had  any  communication 
with  Ibarra,  except  one  named  ]os6,  who  was  his  enemy,  as 
was  proven,  and  who  afterward  committed  suicide,  prob- 
ably from  remorse.  It  was  shown  that  the  papers  found  on 
his  body  were  forgeries,  for  the  writing  was  like  Ibarra's 
seven  years  ago,  but  not  like  his  hand  of  to-day.  For  this 
it  was  supposed  that  the  accusing  letter  served  as  a 
model." 

"  You  tell  us,"  said  a  Franciscan,  "  that  Ibarra  addressed 
this  letter  to  a  woman.  How  did  it  come  into  the  hands 
of  the  attorney-general? " 

The  lieutenant  did  not  reply.  He  looked  a  moment  at 
Father  Salvi,  and  moved  off,  twisting  the  point  of  his  gray 
beard.     The  others  continued  to  discuss  the  matter. 

"  Even  women  seem  to  have  hated  him,"  said  one. 

"  He  burned  his  house,  thinking  to  save  himself,  but  he 
counted  without  his  hostess!  "  said  another,  laughing. 

Meanwhile  the  old  soldier  approached  Maria  Clara.     She 


Maria  Clara  Marries  237 

had  heard  the  whole  conversation,  sitting  motionless,  the 
flowers  lying  at  her  feet. 

"  You  are  a  prudent  young  woman,"  he  said  in  a  low 
voice;  "by  giving  over  the  letter,  you  assured  yourself  a 
peaceful  future."  And  he  moved  on,  leaving  Maria  with 
blank  eyes  and  a  face  rigid.  Fortunately  Aunt  Isabel 
passed.     Maria  had  strength  to  take  her  by  the  dress. 

"What  is  the  matter?  "  cried  the  old  lady,  terrified  at  the 
face  of  her  niece.  "  You  are  ill,  my  child.  You  are  ready 
to  faint.     What  is  it.?" 

"  My  heart— it's  the  crowd— so  much  light— I  must  rest. 
Tejl  my  father  I've  gone  to  rest,"  and  steadying  herself  by 
her  aunt's  arm,  she  went  to  her  room. 

"You  are  cold!  Do  you  want  some  tea.'"  asked  Aimt 
Isabel  at  the  door. 

Maria  shook  her  head.  "Go  back,  dear  aunt,  I  only 
need  to  rest,"  she  said.  She  locked  the  door  of  her  little 
room,  and  at  the  end  of  her  strength,  threw  herself  down 
before  a  statue,  sobbing: 

"  Mother,  mother,  my  mother !  " 

The  moonlight  came  in  through  the  window,  and  through 
the  door  leading  to  the  balcony.  The  joyous  music  of  the 
dance,  peals  of  laughter  and  the  hum  of  conversation,  made 
their  way  to  the  chamber.  Many  times  they  knocked  at  her 
door — her  father,  her  aunt.  Dona  Victorina,  even  Linares. 
Maria  did  not  move  or  speak;  now  and  then  a  hoarse  sob 
escaped  her. 

Hours  passed.  After  the  feast  had  come  the  ball. 
Maria's  candle  had  burned  out,  and  she  lay  in  the  moon- 
light at  the  foot  of  the  statue.  She  had  not  moved.  Little 
by  little  the  house  became  quiet  Aunt  Isabel  came  to 
knock  once  again  at  the  door, 

"  She  must  have  gone  to  bed,"  the  old  lady  called  back 
to  her  brother.     "  At  her  age  one  sleeps  like  the  dead." 


238  An  Eagle  Flight 

When  all  was  still  again,  Maria  rose  slowly,  and  looked 
out  on  the  terrace  with  its  vines  bathed  in  the  white  moon- 
light. 

"A  peaceful  future! — Sleep  like  the  dead!"  she  said 
aloud;  and  she  went  out. 

The  city  was  mute;  only  now  and  then  a  carriage  could 
be  heard  crossing  the  wooden  bridge.  The  girl  raised  her 
eyes  toward  the  sky ;  then  slowly  she  took  off  her  rings,  the 
pendants  in  her  ears,  the  comb  and  jewelled  pins  in  her 
hair,  and  put  them  on  the  balustrade  of  the  terrace;  then 
she  looked  toward  the  river. 

A  little  bark,  loaded  with  zacate,  drew  up  to  the  lancjing- 
place  below  the  terrace.  One  of  the  two  men  in  it  climbed 
the  stone  steps,  sprang  over  the  wall,  and  in  a  moment  was 
mounting  the  stairway  of  the  terrace.  At  sight  of  Maria, 
he  stopped,  then  approached  slowly. 

Maria  drew  back. 

"  Crisdstomo !  "  she  said,  speaking  low.     She  was  terrified. 

"Yes,  I  am  Crisdstomo,"  replied  the  young  man  gravely. 
"  An  enemy,  a  man  who  has  reason  to  hate  me,  Elias,  has 
rescued  me  from  the  prison  where  my  friends  put  me." 

A  sad  silence  followed  his  words.  Maria  Clara  bent  her 
head.     Ibarra  went  on : 

"  By  the  dead  body  of  my  mother,  I  pledged  myself,  what- 
ever my  future,  to  try  to  make  you  happy.  I  have  risked 
all  that  remains  to  me,  to  come  and  fulfil  that  promise. 
Chance  lets  me  speak  to  you,  Maria;  we  shall  never  see  each 
other  again.  You  are  young  now ;  some  day  your  conscience 
may  upbraid  you.  Before  I  go  away  forever,  I  have  come 
to  say  that  I  forgive  you.  Be  happy — farewell!  "  And  he 
began  to  move  away ;  she  held  him  back. 

"Crisdstomo!  "  she  said,  "God  has  sent  you  to  save  me 
from  despair.     Listen  and  judge  me !  " 

Ibarra  tried  gently  to  release  himself. 


Maria  Clara  Marries  239 

"  I  did  not  come  to  call  you  to  account;  I  came  to  bring 
you  peace." 

"  I  want  none  of  the  peace  you  bring  me.  I  shall  find 
peace  for  myself.  You  scorn  me  and  your  scorn  will 
make  even  death  bitter." 

He  saw  despair  in  her  poor,  young  face,  and  asked  what 
she  wished. 

"  I  wish  you  to  believe  that  I  have  always  loved  you." 

He  smiled  bitterly. 

*'  Ah !  you  doubt  me !  you  doubt  your  childhood's  friend, 
who  has  never  hidden  a  single  thought  from  you !  When 
you  know  my  history,  the  sad  story  that  was  told  me  in  my 
illness,  you  will  pity  me;  you  will  no  longer  wear  that 
smile.  Why  did  they  not  let  me  die  in  the  hands  of  my 
ignorant  doctor !    You  and  I  should  both  have  been  happier !  " 

She  stopped  a  moment,  then  went  on : 

"  You  force  me  to  this,  by  your  doubts ;  may  my  mother 
forgive  [me!  In  one  of  the  most  painful  of  my  nights  of 
suffering,  a  man  revealed  to  me  the  name  of  my  real  father. 
If  he  had  not  been  my  father,  this  man  said,  he  might  have 
pardoned  the  injury  you  had  done  him." 

Crisdstomo  looked  at  Maria  in  amazement. 

"  What  was  I  to  do  ?  "  she  went  on.  "  Ought  I  to  sacrifice 
to  my  love  the  memory  of  my  mother,  the  honor  of  him  who 
was  supposed  to  be  my  father,  and  the  good  name  of  him 
who  is?  And  could  I  have  done  this  without  bringing  dis- 
honor upon  you  too?  " 

"But  the  proof — have  you  had  proof?  There  must  be 
proof!  "  said  Crisdstomo,  staggered. 

Maria  drew  from  her  breast  two  papers. 

"  Here  are  two  letters  of  my  mother's,"  she  said,  "  written 
in  her  remorse.  Take  them !  Read  them !  My  father  left 
them  in  the  house  where  he  lived  so  many  years.  This  man 
found  them  and  kept  them,  and  only  gave  them  up  to  me  in 


240  An  Eagle  Flight 

exchange  for  your  letter,  as  assurance,  he  said,  that  I  would 
not  marry  you  without  my  father's  consent.  I  sacrificed  my 
love!  Who  would  not  for  a  mother  dead  and  two  fathers 
living?  Could  I  foresee  what  use  they  would  make  of  your 
letter?     Could  I  know  I  was  sacrificing  you  too?  " 

Ibarra  was  speechless.     Maria  went  on : 

"  What  remained  for  me  to  do  ?  Could  I  tell  you  who 
my  father  was?  Could  I  bid  you  ask  his  pardon,  when  he 
had  so  made  your  father  suffer?  Could  I  say  to  my  father, 
who  perhaps  would  have  pardoned  you — could  I  say  I  was 
his  daughter  ?  Nothing  remained  but  to  suffer,  to  guard  my 
secret,  and  die  suffering!  Now,  my  friend,  now  that  you 
know  the  sad  story  of  your  poor  Maria,  have  you  still  for 
her  that  disdainful  smile?  " 

"  Maria,  you  are  a  saint!  " 

"  I  am  blessed,  because  you  believe  in  me " 

"  And  yet,"  said  Crisdstomo,  remembering,  "  I  heard  you 
were  to  marry " 

"  Yes,"  sobbed  the  poor  child,  "  my  father  demands  this 
sacrifice;  he  has  loved  me,  nourished  me,  and  it  did  not 
belong  to  him  to  do  it.  I  shall  pay  him  my  debt  of  gratitude 
by  assuring  him  peace  through  this  new  connection,  but " 

"But?" 

"  I  shall  not  forget  my  vows  to  you." 

"  What  is  your  thought?  "  asked  Ibarra,  trying  to  read  in 
her  clear  eyes. 

"  The  future  is  obscure.  I  do  not  know  what  I  shall  do; 
but  I  know  this,  that  I  can  love  but  once,  and  that  I  shall 
not  belong  to  one  I  do  not  love.  And  you?  What  will  you 
do?" 

"  I  am  no  longer  anything  but  a  fugitive — I  shall  fly,  and 
my  flight  will  soon  be  overtaken,  Maria " 

Maria  took  his  head  in  her  hands,  kissed  his  lips  again 
and  again,  then  pushed  him  away  with  all  her  strength, 


Maria  Clara  Marries  241 

"  Fly,  fly !  "  she  said.     "  Adieu !  " 

Ibarra  looked  at  her  with  shining  eyes,  but  she  made  a 
sign,  and  he  went,  reeling  for  an  instant  like  a  drunken 
man.  He  leaped  the  wall  again,  and  was  back  in  the  little 
bark.  Maria  Clara,  leaning  on  the  balustrade,  watched  till 
it  disappeared  in  the  distance. 


LIII. 

THE   CHASE   ON   THE   LAKE. 

"  Listen,  senor,  to  the  plan  I  have  made,"  said  Elias,  as 
he  pulled  toward  San  Gabriel,  "  I  will  hide  you,  for  the 
present,  at  the  house  of  a  friend  of  mine  at  Mandaluyong. 
I  will  bring  you  there  your  gold,  that  I  hid  in  the  tomb  of 
your  great-grandfather.     You  will  leave  the  country " 

"To  live  among  strangers?  "  interrupted  Ibarra. 

"  To  live  in  peace.  You  have  friends  in  Spain ;  you  may 
get  amnesty." 

Crisdstomo  did  not  reply;  he  reflected  in  silence. 

They  arrived  at  the  Pasig,  and  the  little  bark  began  to  go 
up  stream.  On  the  bridge  was  a  horseman,  hastening  his 
course,  and  a  whistle  long  and  shrill  was  heard. 

"  Elias,"  said  Ibarra  at  length,  "your  misfortunes  are  due 
to  my  family,  and  you  have  twice  saved  my  life.  I  owe  you 
both  gratitude  and  restitution  of  property.  You  advise  me 
to  leave  the  country ;  well,  come  with  me.  We  will  live  as 
brothers." 

Elias  shook  his  head. 

"  It  is  true  that  I  can  never  be  happy  in  my  country,  but 
I  can  live  and  die  there,  perhaps  die  for  my  country.  That 
is  always  something.  But  you  can  do  nothing  for  her,  here 
and  now.     Perhaps  some  day " 

"  Unless  I,  too,  should  become  a  tulisan,"  mused  Ibarra. 

"  Senor,  a  month  ago  we  sat  in  this  same  boat,  under  the 
light  of  this  same  moon.  You  could  not  have  said  such  a 
thing  then." 


The  Chase  on  the  Lake  243 

"  No,  Elias.  Man  seems  to  be  an  animal  who  varies  with 
circumstances.  I  was  blind  then,  unreasonable,  I  know  not 
what.  Now  the  bandage  has  been  torn  from  my  eyes ;  the 
wretchedness  and  solitude  of  my  prison  has  taught  me 
better.  I  see  the  cancer  that  is  eating  into  our  society; 
perhaps,  after  all,  it  must  be  torn  out  by  violence." 

They  came  in  sight  of  the  governor-general's  palace,  and 
thought  they  saw  unusual  movement  among  the  guards. 

"  Your  escape  must  have  been  discovered,"  said  Elias. 
"  Lie  down,  senor,  so  I  can  cover  you  with  the  zacate,  for 
the  sentinel  at  the  magazine  may  stop  us." 

As  Elias  had  anticipated,  the  sentinel  challenged  him, 
and  asked  him  where  he  came  from. 

"  From  Manila,  with  zacate  for  the  iodores  and  curates," 
said  he,  imitating  the  accent  of  the  people  of  Pandakan. 

A  sergeant  came  out. 

"  Sulung,"  said  he  to  Elias,  "  I  warn  you  not  to  take  any 
one  into  your  boat.  A  prisoner  has  just  escaped.  If  you 
capture  him  and  bring  him  to  me,  I  will  give  you  a  fine 
reward." 

"Good,  senor;  what  is  his  description?  " 

"  He  wears  a  long  coat,  and  speaks  Spanish.  Look  out 
for  him!  " 

The  bark  moved  off.  Elias  turned  and  saw  the  sentinel 
still  standing  by  the  bank. 

"We  shall  lose  a  few  minutes,"  he  said;  "we  shall  have 
to  go  into  the  rio  Beata,  to  make  him  think  I'm  from  Pena 
Francia.  You  shall  see  the  rio  of  which  Francisco  Baltazar 
sang." 

The  pueblo  was  asleep  in  the  moonlight.  Crisdstomo 
sat  up  to  admire  the  death-like  peace  of  nature.  The  rio 
was  narrow,  and  its  banks  were  plains  strewn  with  zacate. 
Elias  discharged  his  cargo,  and  from  the  grass  where  they 
were  hidden,  drew  some  of  those  sacks  of  palm  leaves  that 
17 


244  ^^  Eagle  Flight 

are  called  bayones.  Then  they  pushed  off  again,  and  soon 
were  back  on  the  Pasig.  From  time  to  time  they  talked  of 
indifferent  things. 

"Santa  Ana!  "  said  Ibarra,  speaking  low;  "do  you  know 
that  building?"  They  were  passing  the  country  house  of 
the  Jesuits. 

"  I've  spent  many  happy  days  there,"  said  Elias.  "  When 
I  was  a  child,  we  came  here  every  month.  Then  I  was  like 
other  people;  had  a  family,  a  fortune;  dreamed,  thought  I 
saw  a  future." 

They  were  silent  until  they  came  to  Malapad-na-bato. 
Those  who  have  sometimes  cut  a  wake  in  the  Pasig,  on  one 
of  these  magnificent  nights  of  the  Philippines,  when  from 
the  limpid  azure  the  moon  pours  out  a  poetic  melancholy, 
when  shadows  hide  the  miseries  of  men  and  silence  puts 
out  their  sordid  words — those  who  have  done  this  will  know 
some  of  the  thoughts  of  these  two  young  men. 

At  Malapad-na-bato,  the  rifleman  was  sleepy,  and  seeing 
no  hope  of  plunder  in  the  little  bark,  according  to  the 
tradition  of  his  corps  and  the  habit  of  this  post,  he  let  it 
pass.     The  guard  at  Pasig  was  no  more  disquieting. 

The  moonlight  was  growing  pale,  and  dawn  was  beginning 
to  tint  the  east  with  roses,  when  they  arrived  at  the  lake, 
smooth  and  placid  as  a  great  mirror.  At  a  distance  they 
saw  a  gray  mass,  advancing  little  by  little. 

"  It's  the  faliia,"  said  Elias  under  his  breath.  "  Lie  down, 
senor,  and  I  will  cover  you  with  these  bags." 

The  outlines  of  the  government  boat  grew  more  and  more 
distinct. 

"  She's  getting  between  us  and  the  shore,"  said  Elias, 
uneasily;  and  very  gradually  he  changed  the  direction  of 
his  bark.  To  his  terror  he  saw  the  falua  make  the  same 
change,  and  heard  a  voice  hailing  him.  He  stopped  and 
thought.     The   shore  was  3'et   some   distance   away;  thej 


The  Chase  on  the  Lake  245 

would  soon  be  within  range  of  the  ship's  guns.  He  thought 
he  would  go  back  to  Pasig,  his  boat  could  escape  the  other 
in  that  direction;  but  fate  was  against  him.  Another  boat 
was  coming  from  Pasig,  and  in  it  glittered  the  helmets  and 
bayonets  of  the  Civil  Guards. 

"We  are  caught!  "  he  said,  and  the  color  left  his  face. 
He  looked  at  his  sturdy  arms,  and  took  the  only  resolution 
possible;  he  began  to  row  with  all  his  might  toward  the 
island  of  Talim.  The  sun  was  coming  up.  The  bark  shot 
rapidly  over  the  water;  on  the  faliia,  which  changed  its  tack, 
Elias  saw  men  signalling. 

"  Do  you  know  how  to  manage  a  bark?  "  he  demanded  of 
Ibarra. 

"Yes.     Why?" 

"  Because  we  are  lost  unless  I  take  to  the  water  to  throw 
them  off  the  track.  They  will  pursue  me.  I  swim  and 
dive  well.  That  will  turn  them  away  from  you,  and  you 
must  try  to  save  yourself." 

"  No,  stay,  and  let  us  sell  our  lives  dear!  " 

"  It  is  useless ;  we  have  no  arms ;  they  would  shoot  us 
down  like  birds." 

As  he  spoke,  they  heard  a  hiss  in  the  water,  followed  by 
a  report. 

"You  see!  "  said  Elias,  laying  down  his  oar.  "We  will 
meet,  Christmas  night,  at  the  tomb  of  your  grandfather. 
Save  yourself !  God  has  drawn  me  out  of  greater  perils  than 
this!" 

He  took  off  his  shirt;  a  ball  picked  it  out  of  his  hands, 
and  two  reports  followed.  Without  showing  alarm,  he 
grasped  the  hand  Ibarra  stretched  up  from  the  bottom  of  the 
boat,  then  stood  upright  and  leaped  into  the  water,  pushing 
off  the  little  craft  with  his  foot. 

Outcries  were  heard  from  the  faliia.  Promptly,  and  at 
some  distance,  appeared  the  head  of  the  young  man,  return- 


246  An  Eagle  Flight 

ing  to  the  surface  to  breathe,  then  disappearing  immediately. 

"There,  there  he  is,"  cried  several  voices,  and  balls 
whistled. 

The  faliia  and  the  bark  from  Pasig  set  out  in  pursuit  of 
the  swimmer.  A  slight  wake  showed  his  direction,  more 
and  more  removed  from  Ibarra's  little  bark,  which  drifted 
as  if  abandoned.  Every  time  Elias  raised  his  head  to 
breathe,  the  guards  and  the  men  of  the  faliia  fired  on  him. 

The  chase  went  on.  The  little  bark  with  Ibarra  was  left 
far  behind.  Elias  was  not  more  than  a  hundred  yards  from 
the  shore.  The  rowers  were  getting  tired,  but  so  was  Elias, 
for  he  repeatedly  raised  his  head  above  the  water,  but  always 
in  a  new  direction,  to  disconcert  his  pursuers.  The  deceiv- 
ing wake  no  longer  told  the  place  of  the  swimmer.  For 
the  last  time  they  saw  him,  sixty  feet  from  the  shore.  The 
soldiers  fired^— minutes  and  minutes  passed.  Nothing  again 
disturbed  the  tranquil  surface  of  the  lake. 

A  half  hour  later,  one  of  the  rowers  claimed  to  have  seen 
traces  of  blood  near  the  shore,  but  his  comrades  shook  their 
heads  in  doubt. 


LIV. 

FATHER   DAMASO    EXPLAINS    HIMSELF. 

In  vain  the  precious  wedding  presents  heaped  up;  not 
the  brilliants  in  their  velvet  cases,  not  embroideries  of  pina 
nor  pieces  of  silk,  drew  the  eyes  of  Maria  Clara.  She  saw 
nothing  but  the  journal  in  which  was  told  the  death  of 
Ibarra,  drowned  in  the  lake. 

Suddenly  she  felt  two  hands  over  her  eyes,  clasping  her 
head,  while  a  merry  voice  said  to  her: 

"Who  is  it?     Who  is  it?" 

Maria  sprang  up  in  fright. 

"  Little  goose !  Did  I  scare  you,  eh  ?  You  weren't  ex- 
pecting me,  eh  ?     Why,  I've  come  from  the  province  to  be 

at  your  marriage "     And  with  a  satisfied  smile.  Father 

Damaso  gave  her  his  hand  to  kiss.  She  took  it,  trembling, 
and  carried  it  respectfully  to  her  lips. 

"  What  is  it,  Maria?  "  demanded  the  Franciscan,  troubled, 
and  losing  his  gay  smile.  "  Your  hand  is  cold,  you  are 
pale — are  you  ill,  little  girl?"  And  he  drew  her  tenderly 
to  him,  took  both  her  hands  and  questioned  her  with  his 
eyes. 

"Won't  you  confide  in  your  godfather?"  he  asked  in  a 
tone  of  reproach.  "  Come,  sit  down  here  and  tell  me  your 
griefs,  as  you  used  to  do  when  you  were  little,  and  wanted 
some  tapers  to  make  wax  dolls.     You  know  I've  always 

loved  you — never  scolded  you "  and  his  voice  became 

very  tender.     Maria  began  to  cry. 


248  An  Eagle  Flight 

"Why  do  you  cry,  my  child?  Have  you  quarrelled  with 
Linares? " 

Maria  put  her  hands  over  her  eyes. 

"  No ;  it's  not  about  him — now !  " 

Father  Damaso  looked  startled.  "  And  you  won't  tell  me 
your  secrets?  Have  I  not  always  tried  to  satisfy  your 
slightest  wish? " 

Maria  raised  to  him  her  eyes  full  of  tears,  looked  at  him 
a  moment,  then  sobbed  afresh. 

"My  child!" 

Maria  came  slowly  to  him,  fell  on  her  knees  at  his  feet, 
and  raising  her  face  wet  with  tears,  asked  in  a  voice  scarcely 
audible : 

"  Do  you  still  love  me?  " 

"Child!" 

"  Then — protect  my  father  and  make  him  break  off  my 
marriage."  And  she  told  him  of  her  last  interview  with 
Ibarra,  omitting  everything  about  the  secret  of  her  birth. 

Father  Damaso  could  scarcely  believe  what  he  heard. 
She  was  talking  calmly  now,  without  tears. 

"  So  long  as  he  lived,"  she  went  on,  "  I  could  struggle, 
I  could  hope,  I  had  confidence;  I  wished  to  live  to  hear 
about  him ;  but  now — that  they  have  killed  him,  I  have  no 
longer  any  reason  to  live  and  suffer." 

"  And — Linares " 

"  If  he  had  lived,  I  might  have  married — for  my  father's 
sake ;  but  now  that  he  is  dead,  I  want  the  convent — or  the 
grave," 

"  You  loved  him  so  ? "  stammered  Father  Damaso. 
Maria  did  not  reply.  The  father  bent  his  head  on  his 
breast. 

"My  child,"  he  said  at  last  in  a  broken  voice,  "forgive 
me  for  having  made  you  unhapppy;  I  did  not  know  I  was 
doing  it!     I  thought  of  your  future.     How  could  I  let  you 


Father  Damaso  Explains  Himself     249 

marry  a  man  of  this  country,  to  see  you,  later  on,  an  un- 
happy wife  and  mother?  I  set  myself  with  all  my  strength 
to  get  this  love  out  of  your  mind,  I  used  all  means — for  you, 
only  for  you.  If  you  had  been  his  wife,  you  would  have 
wept  for  the  unfortunate  position  of  your  husband,  exposed 
to  all  sorts  of  dangers,  and  without  defence;  a  mother,  you 
would  have  wept  for  your  children ;  had  you  educated  them, 
you  would  have  prepared  them  a  sad  future;  they  would 
have  become  enemies  of  religion;  the  gallows  or  exile 
would  have  been  their  portion;  had  you  left  them  in  igno- 
rance, you  would  have  seen  them  tyrannized  over  and 
degraded.  I  could  not  consent  to  this.  That  is  why  I 
found  for  you  a  husband  whose  children  should  command, 
not  obey;  punish,  not  suffer — I  knew  your  childhood's  friend 
was  good,  and  I  liked  him,  as  I  did  his  father;  but  I  hated 
them  both  for  your  sake,  because  I  love  you  as  one  loves  a 
daughter,  because  I  idolize  you — I  have  no  other  love;  I 
have  seen  you  grow  up,  there  isn't  an  hour  in  which  I  do 

not  think  of  you,  you  are  my  one  joy "     And  Father 

Damaso  began  to  cry  like  a  child. 

"Then  if  you  love  me,  do  not  make  me  forever  miserable; 
he  is  dead,  I  wish  to  be  a  nun." 

The  old  man  rested  his  forehead  in  his  hand. 

"A  nun,  a  nun!  "  he  repeated.  "You  do  not  know,  my 
child,  all  that  is  hidden  behind  the  walls  of  a  convent,  you 
do  not  know!  I  would  a  thousand  times  rather  see  you  un- 
happy in  the  world  than  in  the  cloister.  Here  your  com- 
plaints can  be  heard;  there  you  have  only  the  walls! 
You  are  beautiful,  very  beautiful;  you  were  not  made  to 
renounce  the  world.  Believe  me,  my  child,  time  alters  all 
things;  later  you  will  forget,  you  will  love,  you  will  love 
your  husband — Linares." 

"  Either  the  convent  or — death,"  repeated  Maria,  with  no 
sign  of  yielding. 


250  An  Eagle  Flight 

"  Maria,"  said  the  father,  "  I  am  not  young.  I  cannot 
watch  over  you  always;  choose  something  else,  find  another 
love,  another  husband,  anything,  what  you  will !  " 

"  I  choose  the  convent." 

"My  God,  my  God! "  cried  the  priest,  burying  his  face 
in  his  hands.  "You  punish  me,  be  it  so!  But  watch  over 
my  daughter! — Maria,  you  shall  be  a  nun.  I  cannot  have 
you  die." 

Maria  took  his  hands,  pressed  them,  kissed  them  as  she 
knelt. 

"  Godfather,  my  godfather,"  she  said. 

"Oh,  God!"  cried  the  heart  of  the  father,  "thou  dost 
exist,  because  thou  dost  chastise!  Take  vengeance  upon 
me,  but  do  not  strike  the  innocent ;  save  my  daughter !  " 


LV. 

THE   NOCHEBUENA. 

Up  on  the  side  of  the  mountain,  where  a  torrent  springs, 
a  cabin  hides  under  the  trees,  builded  on  their  gnarled 
trunks.  Over  its  thatched  roof  creep  the  branches  of  the 
gourd,  heavy  with  fruit  and  flowers.  Antlers  and  wild 
boars'  heads,  some  of  them  bearing  their  long  tusks,  ornament 
the  rustic  hearth.  It  is  the  home  of  a  Tagalo  family  living 
from  the  chase  and  the  cup  of  the  woods. 

Under  the  shade  of  a  tree,  the  grandfather  is  making 
brooms  from  the  veins  of  palm  leaves,  while  a  girl  fills  a 
basket  with  eggs,  lemons,  and  vegetables.  Two  children, 
a  boy  and  a  girl,  are  playing  beside  another  boy,  pale  and 
serious,  with  great,  deep  eyes.  We  know  him.  It  is  Sisa's 
son,  Basil io. 

"When  your  foot  is  well,"  said  the  little  boy,  "you  will 
go  with  us  to  the  top  of  the  mountain  and  drink  deer's 
blood  and  lemon  juice;  then  you'll  grow  fat;  then  I'll  show 
you  how  to  jump  from  one  rock  to  another,  over  the  torrent." 

Basilio  smiled  sadly,  examined  the  wound  in  his  foot,  and 
looked  at  the  sun,  which  was  shining  splendidly. 

"  Sell  these  brooms,  Lucia,"  said  the  grandfather  to  the 
young  girl,  "  and  buy  something  for  your  brothers.  To-day 
is  Christmas." 

"Fire-crackers,  I  want  fire-crackers!"  cried  the  little 
boy. 

"And  what  do  you  want?  "  the  grandfather  asked  Basilio. 
The  boy  got  up  and  went  to  the  old  man. 

"  Senor,"  he  said,  "  have  I  been  ill  more  than  a  month  ? " 


252  An  Eagle  Flight 

"  Since  we  found  you,  faint  and  covered  with  wounds, 
two  moons  have  passed.  We  thought  you  were  going  to 
die » 

"  May  God  reward  you ;  we  are  very  poor,"  said  Basilio ; 
"  but  as  to-day  is  Christmas,  I  want  to  go  to  the  pueblo  to 
see  my  mother  and  my  little  brother.  They  must  have  been 
looking  everywhere  for  me." 

"  But,  son,  you  aren't  well  yet,  and  it  is  far  to  your  pueblo. 
You  would  not  get  there  till  midnight.  My  sons  will  want 
to  see  you  when  they  come  from  the  forest." 

"  You  have  many  children,  but  my  mother  has  only  us 
two;  perhaps  she  thinks  me  dead  already.  I  want  to  give 
her  a  present  to-night — a  son !  " 

The  grandfather  felt  his  eyes  grow  dim. 

"You  are  as  sensible  as  an  old  man!  Go,  find  your 
mother,  give  her  her  present!  Go,  my  son.  God  and  the 
Lord  Jesus  go  with  you !  " 

"  What,  you're  not  going  to  stay  and  see  my  fire-crackers  ?  " 
said  the  little  boy. 

"I  want  you  to  play  hide  and  seek!"  pouted  the  little 
girl ;  "  nothing  else  is  so  much  fun." 

Basilio  smiled  and  his  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  I  shall  come  back  soon,"  he  said,  "  and  bring  my  little 
brother;  then  you  can  play  with  him.  But  I  must  go  away 
now  with  Lucia." 

"Don't  forget  us!"  said  the  old  man,  "and  come  back 
when  you  are  well."  The  children  all  accompanied  him  to 
the  bridge  of  bamboo  over  the  rushing  torrent.  Lucia,  who 
was  going  to  the  first  pueblo  with  her  basket,  made  him 
lean  on  her  arm ;  the  other  children  watched  them  both  out 
of  sight. 

The  north  wind  was  blowing,  and  the  dwellers  in  San 
Diego  were  trembling  with  cold.     It  was  the  Nochebuena, 


The  Nochebuena  253 

and  yet  the  pueblo  was  sad.  Not  a  paper  lantern  hung  in 
the  windows,  no  noise  in  the  houses  announcing  the  joyful 
time,  as  in  other  years. 

At  the  home  of  Captain  Basilio,  the  master  of  the  house 
is  talking  with  Don  Filipo ;  the  troubles  of  these  times  have 
made  them  friends. 

"You  are  in  rare  luck,  to  be  released  at  just  this  moment," 
Captain  Basilio  was  saying  to  his  guest.  "  They've  burned 
your  books,  that's  true ;  but  others  have  fared  worse." 

A  woman  came  up  to  the  window  and  looked  in.  Her 
eyes  were  brilliant,  her  face  haggard,  her  hair  loose;  the 
moon  made  her  uncanny. 

" Sisa?  "  asked  Don  Filipo,  in  surprise.  "I  thought  she 
was  with  a  physician." 

Captain  Basilio  smiled  bitterly. 

"  The  doctor  feared  he  might  be  taken  for  a  friend  of 
Don  Crisdstomo's,  so  he  drove  her  out!  " 

"What  else  has  happened  since  I  went  away?  I  know 
we  have  a  new  curate  and  a  new  alferez " 

"  Well,  the  head  sacristan  was  found  dead,  hung  in  the 
garret  of  his  house.  And  old  Tasio  is  dead.  They  buried 
him  in  the  Chinese  cemetery." 

"Poor  Don  Astasio!"  sighed  Don  Filipo.  "And  his 
books?" 

"  The  devout  thought  it  would  be  pleasing  to  God  if  they 
should  burn  them ;  nothing  escaped,  not  even  the  works  of 
Cicero.     The  gobernadorcillo  was  no  check  whatsoever." 

They  were  both  silent.  At  that  moment,  the  melancholy 
song  of  Sisa  was  heard.  A  child  passed,  limping,  and 
running  toward  the  place  from  which  the  song  came ;  it  was 
Basilio.  The  little  fellow  had  found  his  home  deserted  and 
in  ruins.  He  had  been  told  about  his  mother;  of  Crispin 
he  had  not  heard  a  word.  He  had  dried  his  tears,  smothered 
his  grief,  and  without  resting,  started  out  to  find  Sisa. 


254  A-n  Eagle  Flight 

She  had  come  to  the  house  of  the  new  alfe'rez.  As  usual, 
a  sentinel  was  pacing  up  and  down.  When  she  saw  the 
soldier,  she  took  to  flight,  and  ran  as  only  a  wild  thing  can. 
Basilio  saw  her,  and  fearing  to  lose  sight  of  her,  forgot  his 
wounded  foot,  and  followed  in  hot  pursuit.  Dogs  barked, 
geese  cackled,  windows  opened  here  and  there,  to  give 
passage  to  the  heads  of  the  curious ;  others  banged  to,  from 
fear  of  a  new  night  of  trouble.  At  this  rate,  the  runners 
were  soon  outside  the  pueblo,  and  Sisa  began  to  moderate 
her  speed.  There  was  a  long  distance  between  her  and  her 
pursuer. 

"  Mother !  "  he  cried,  when  he  could  distinguish  her. 

No  sooner  did  Sisa  hear  the  voice  than  she  again  began 
to  run  madly. 

"  Mother,  it's  I,"  cried  the  child  in  despair.  Sisa  paid 
no  attention.  The  poor  little  fellow  followed  breathless. 
They  were  now  on  the  border  of  the  wood. 

Bushes,  thorny  twigs,  and  the  roots  of  trees  hindered  their 
progress.  The  child  followed  the  vision  of  his  mother, 
made  clear  now  and  then  by  the  moon's  rays  across  the 
heavy  foliage.  They  were  in  the  mysterious  wood  of  the 
family  of  Ibarra.  Basilio  often  stumbled  and  fell,  but  he 
got  up  again,  without  feeling  his  hurts,  or  remembering  his 
lameness.  All  his  life  was  concentrated  in  his  eyes,  which 
never  lost  the  beloved  figure  from  view. 

They  crossed  the  brook,  which  was  singing  gently,  and 
to  his  great  surprise,  Basilio  saw  his  mother  press  through 
the  thicket  and  enter  the  wooden  door  that  closed  the  tomb 
of  the  old  Spaniard.  He  tried  to  follow  her,  but  the  door 
was  fast.  Sisa  was  defending  the  entrance — holding  the 
door  closed  with  all  her  strength. 

"  Mother,  it's  I,  it's  I,  Basilio, your  son!  "  cried  the  child, 
falling  from  fatigue.  But  Sisa  would  not  budge.  Her  feet 
braced  against  the  ground,  she  offered  an  energetic  resist- 


The  Nochebuena  255 

ance.  Basilio  examined  the  wall,  but  could  not  scale  it. 
Then  he  made  the  tour  of  the  grave.  He  saw  a  branch  of 
the  great  tree,  crossed  by  a  branch  of  another.  He  began 
to  climb,  and  his  filial  love  did  miracles.  He  went  from 
branch  to  branch,  and  came  over  the  tomb  at  last. 

The  noise  he  made  in  the  branches  startled  Sisa.  She 
turned  and  would  have  fled,  but  her  son,  letting  himself 
drop  from  the  tree,  seized  her  in  his  arms  and  covered  her 
with  kisses ;  then,  worn  out,  he  fainted  away. 

Sisa  saw  his  forehead  bathed  in  blood.  She  bent  over 
him,  and  her  eyes,  almost  out  of  their  sockets,  were  fixed  on 
his  face,  which  stirred  the  sleeping  cells  of  her  brain.  Then 
something  like  a  spark  flashed  through  them.  Sisa  recog- 
nized her  son,  and  with  a  cry  fell  on  his  senseless  body, 
pressing  it  to  her  heart,  kissing  him  and  weeping.  Then 
mother  and  son  were  both  motionless. 

When  Basilio  came  to  himself,  he  found  his  mother  with- 
out consciousness.  He  called  her,  lavished  tender  names 
on  her,  and  seeing  she  did  not  wake,  ran  for  water  and 
sprinkled  her  pale  face.  But  the  eyes  remained  closed.  In 
terror,  Basilio  put  his  ear  to  her  heart,  but  her  heart  no 
longer  beat.  The  poor  child  embraced  the  dead  body  of  his 
mother,  weeping  bitterly. 

On  this  night  of  joy  for  so  many  children,  who,  by  the 
warm  hearth,  celebrate  the  feast  which  recalls  the  first  lov- 
ing look  Heaven  gave  to  earth;  on  this  night  when  all  good 
Christian  families  eat,  laugh,  and  dance,  'mid  love  and 
kisses;  on  this  night  which,  for  the  children  of  cold  coun- 
tries, is  magical  with  its  Christmas  trees,  Basilio  sits  in  soli- 
tude and  grief.  Who  knows  ?  Perhaps  around  the  hearth  of 
the  silent  Father  Salvi  are  children  playing;  perhaps  they 
are  singing: 

"  Christmas  comes, 
And  Christmas  goes." 


256  An  Eagle  Flight 

The  child  was  sobbing.  When  he  raised  his  head,  a  man 
was  looking  silently  down  at  him. 

"  You  are  her  son  ?  "  he  asked. 

Basilic  nodded  his  head. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do?  " 

"  Bury  her." 

"  In  the  cemetery  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  money — if  you  would  help  me " 

"  I  am  too  weak,"  said  the  man,  sinking  gradually  to  the 
ground.  "  I  am  wounded.  For  two  days  I  have  not  eaten 
or  slept.  Has  no  one  been  here  to-night?  "  And  the  man 
sat  still,  watching  the  child's  attractive  face. 

"  Listen,"  said  he,  in  a  voice  growing  feebler,  "  I  too 
shall  be  dead  before  morning.  Twenty  paces  from  here, 
beyond  the  spring,  is  a  pile  of  wood;  put  our  two  bodies  on 
it,  and  light  the  fire." 

Basil io  listened. 

"Then,  if  nobody  comes,  you  are  to  dig  here;  you  will 
find  a  lot  of  gold,  and  it  will  be  all  yours.     Study! " 

The  voice  of  the  unknown  man  sank  lower  and  lower. 
Then  he  turned  his  head  toward  the  east,  and  said  softly, 
as  though  praying: 

"  I  die  without  seeing  the  light  of  dawn  on  my  country. 
You  who  shall  see  it  and  greet  it,  do  not  forget  those  who 
fell  in  the  night!" 


The  Archbishop  and  the  Lady 

By    Mrs.    Schuyler    Crowninshield 

A  story  of  modern  society  which  only  a  writer  of  very  wide 
and  very  exceptional  social  experience  could  have  written. 
It  is  cosmopolitan,  yet  full  of  romance;  modern,  yet  informed 
with  a  delicate  old-world  charm.  The  characters  are  put 
before  us  with  a  consummate  knowledge  of  the  world  and  a 
penetrating  insight  into  human  nature. 

Cloth.     lamo;  5jx7|.    About$i.50. 


April's  Sowing 

By  GERTRUDE  HALL 

Miss  Gertrude  Hall  is  known  to  the  world  as  a  poet  and 
as  a  teller  of  tales,  but  with  her  first  novel  she  reveals  new 
gifts,  for  it  is  a  modem  story  tuned  to  a  note  of  light  comedy 
that  she  has  never  struck  before.  "April's  Sowing"  is  that 
most  widely  appreciated  thing  in  letters,  a  young  love  story. 

Illustrated  by  Orson  Lowell.  With  decorative  cover, 
frontispiece,  title  page  in  color,  and  ornamental  head  and 
tailpieces.     Cloth.     i2mo;5|x7|.    $1.50. 


The  Darlingtons 

By  ELMORE  ELLIOTT  PEAKE 

A  novel  of  American  life  in  the  middle  West  which  deals 
principally  with  the  fortunes  of  a  family  whose  members  are 
the  social  and  financial  leaders  of  their  section.  The  heroine 
is  a  girl  whose  education  is  broad  enough  to  enable  her  to 
assist  her  father  in  managing  a  railroad.  The  hero  is  a 
Methodist  minister  of  liberal  tendencies.  The  story  is  told 
with  remarkable  fidelity  and  unusual  dramatic  interest. 
Cloth.     i2nio;  5|x7|.    About  $1.50. 


Two  Unknown   Phases  of  Life 
Made   Known  in   Fiction 


The  Powers  That  Prey 

By  JosiAH  FLYNTand  Francis  Walton 

The  atithors  of  the  ten  closely  related  stories  which  make 
up  this  volume  have  spent  most  of  their  lives  studying  the 
sociological  problems  of  tramp  and  criminal  life.  Mr.  Flynt 
writes  :  "  So  far  as  I  am  concerned,  the  book  is  the  result  of 
ten  years  of  wandering  with  tramps  and  two  years  spent  with 
various  police  organizations."  The  stories  are  a  decided 
contribution  to  sociology,  and  yet,  viewed  as  stories,  they 
have  unusual  interest  because  of  their  remarkable  vigor  and 
their  intense  realism. 

Fully  Illustrated.    Cloth.     z2mo;  5^x7}.    $1.25. 


The  Soul  of  the  Street 

By  NORMAN  DUNCAN 

"  The  Soul  of  the  Street "  has  a  unity  lacking  in  many 
volumes  of  short  stories.  They  deal  with  Syrians  and  Turks, 
queer  folk  with  queer  ways,  and  Mr.  Duncan  has  gotten  at 
them  with  such  sympathetic  insight  as  only  the  poetic  heart 
and  the  story-teller's  eye  can  possess.  Character,  humor, 
poignant  pathos,  and  the  sad  grotesque  conjunctions  of  old 
and  new  civilizations  are  expressed  through  the  medium  of  a 
style  that  has  distinction,  and  strikes  a  note  of  rare  per- 
sonality. 

Cloth.     lamo;  5|X7J.     About  $1.00. 


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